


What's Your Number?

by tea_the_turtleduck



Series: Brittana Movie Crossover Project [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Humor, Movie crossover, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_the_turtleduck/pseuds/tea_the_turtleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A palm-reading and a magazine article send Brittany Pierce on a quest to track down all the people she had slept with to find her soulmate. Along the way, she enlists the help of her neighbor, 6A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Brittany! Brittany, come on, open up!"

Brittany groaned as she turned in her bed. She cracked one eye open to look at the time and saw it was only 6:30am. Which wouldn't have been so bad, if it was _not_ a Saturday. She closed her eye again and covered her head with her pillow, hoping that her friend would take a hint and leave her alone.

"Brittany!"

No such luck though. The obnoxious pounding on her door continued, as well as the high-pitched voice calling out her name.

Muttering swear words that would have made the ghetto kids blush, Brittany threw the pillow off her face and sat up. She rubbed her eyes before opening them. She looked around her to see sunlight spilling over her room and instantly, she felt her irritation lessen.

That was the thing about Brittany: she'd be as grumpy as that old lady with forty-two cats who lived downstairs the moment she'd wake up. But this grumpiness only lasted a minute since once she opened her eyes, she'd immediately take in the beautiful things in the world, like the sunlight on her bed, or her beloved cat curled up beside her or the photographs that covered the walls of her room.

For a moment, she was lost in her head with appreciation but the knocking brought her back.

"Brittany Susan Pierce, I swear on Cristobal Balenciaga's name if you don't open this door this very second, I'll—"

Brittany heard a door open and a second voice muttering something in a low but distinctively threatening voice. Then a door slammed shut.

When she finally reached her door and opened it, she saw her friend looking at the door of the apartment across from hers.

"You sure chose a perfect time to go mute, Kurt," Brittany greeted her friend.

Kurt slowly turned to face her, his baby blue eyes wide. He raised his hand, his thumb jerking to the door of 6A. "I think your neighbor just threatened to shank me."

Brittany smirked. "You think?"

Kurt shook his head, regaining his composure, and strode into her apartment. "I couldn't tell for sure; she was speaking in Spanish. But I have seen enough movies to know that when somebody repeatedly points at you and making that—" Kurt made a cutting motion across his neck with his hand "—gesture while scowling like the devil, it usually means that that person will come back with a shank and—" Kurt shivered. "—I'd rather not continue that thought."

Brittany let out a chuckle. "Nobody likes being woken up at 6:30am on a Saturday. Even roosters sleep in on this day."

Kurt eyed her doubtfully. "How would you know?"

Brittany went over to the counter to start the coffee maker. "Lord Tubbington told me. He's got friends in high places."

"Mm-hmm." Years of friendship had taught Kurt not to question the apparent wisdom of Brittany's fat cat. "So anyway. Brittany, guess what?"

"Scientists have determined the exact number of rainbow particles that unicorns store in their horns?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Wait, what, no! Madame Tibideaux is here! She's finally here!"

"Your monthly horniness fairy has arrived?"

"What?!"

"What?"

"What—no, not libido, Britt. La Tibideaux, as in Carmen Tibideaux? She's only the greatest fortune teller of our time!"

Brittany's eyes lit up. "Oh! Can she help me find out if Lord Tubbington is ever going to find his soulmate?"

"Who cares about that, Brittany?" Kurt snapped. "She's here, and we can finally get a glimpse of our own future! Like if I will ever get to start my own fashion company, or—or how many children Blaine and I are going to have—no wait, which would be the best medium for my brilliantly inspiring life story: play, movie or novel?" Kurt's eyes glazed over as he began visualizing his autobiography in all media.

Brittany frowned. "I don't know, Kurt. There's nothing I really want to ask. I mean, I'm perfectly fine where I am." She poured coffee into two mugs, setting one down before her friend after putting milk and sugar, and taking the other, blowing on it before taking a sip.

Kurt snapped out of his haze. "Britt! You can't be serious!"

"It's Lord Tubbington who needs to know if he's going to end up with somebody."

Kurt's features softened. "Britt…" Years of friendship had also taught him that sometimes his friend uses her cat to project her own fears and anxiety. "Hailey's wedding is in three weeks, right?"

"Yeah, and she's having her bachelorette party this afternoon. It's gotten Lord Tubbington to thinking, you know? He's not getting any younger and I think," Brittany leaned over the table and lowered her voice," he's spiraling into depression. I found his baggie the other day; it's getting serious, Kurt."

Kurt pinched his lips together. Despite knowing Brittany's unconventional way of talking about her feelings, it never made it any easier for him to talk to her in her language. "You—uh, he really feels lonely, doesn't he?"

Brittany sighed, straightening up. She set her mug on the table and ran her fingers through her hair. "I can only do so much." She gave Kurt a quick smile. "It's just that he's getting all this anxiety at the sight of my sister's impending wedding, you know? Like she's getting married to somebody she loves and they're going to start a family and live happily ever after. I've told him before that it doesn't always have to be that way, that happy endings don't always have to take that kind of path. But, I don't know. It sure seems nice, having someone you're gonna spend the rest of your life with and have beautiful babies together."

"Britt…"

"I mean, he's beginning to see it, you know? He's being surrounded by couples all around—you and Blaine, Rachel and Finn… even the forty-two cats downstairs have paired off, though I highly suspect that they're into swinging."

Kurt cleared his throat, seeing his chance to do away with the proxy. "There's you."

Brittany gave him a wry smile. "I'm different."

"You are, in a magical sort of way, but it doesn't mean that you—and he—will end up with nobody. There's always someone for everyone. Madame Tibideaux will tell you as much; she may even give you clues into finding that person just for you—and er, for Tubbs as well."

Brittany's smile was now genuine. "Thanks, Kurt."

"Now, let's get you dressed up. Rachel's meeting us at the Center in an hour."

Brittany pulled a face. "Rachel's coming, too?"

"Well, of course. I've invited Blaine along, too, but they have rehearsals today. Besides, Rachel needs to know how many Tonys she's going to win in her lifetime, and, more importantly, if she has to hold on to Finn, who has, once again, taken off to soul-search," said Kurt, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, I don't get why she still takes him back every single time."

Brittany chuckled. "He's your step-brother."

"That doesn't mean anything when it comes to my friend's happiness." Kurt pulled the mug towards him and took a sip. "I mean, for goodness' sake, somebody who still acts like a high school student when he's past thirty should have been a warning sign for her." Kurt sighed. "Anyway, I'm hoping that Madame Tibideaux will be able to put some sense into her head."

Brittany bit her lip. "I know you and Rachel are close, Kurt, but she doesn't really make me feel comfortable."

"Oh," Kurt waved his hand dismissively, "she got over you and Brody hooking up a long time ago."

"It's not that. And besides, that wasn't really my fault." Brittany paused for a moment before continuing in a small voice, "She makes me feel stupid sometimes."

"Oh Britt. Rachel's as offensive as Broadway divas come. If it makes you feel any better, I'll duct-tape her mouth until it's her turn for a reading." Kurt paused. "Even then I don't think she'd need to speak anyhow. God knows she'd give Madame Tibideaux unsolicited information about herself starting from when she was belting out show tunes at the age of two. Yeah, duct-tape it is." Kurt nodded his head solemnly.

Brittany broke into a grin. "You really don't have any bias, do you?"

Kurt winked at her knowingly. "I'm biased towards my fellow unicorns."

**###**

"We're here!" Kurt squealed, clapping his hands together. "I can't believe we're here!"

"Mmhrmmhmmm!"

"Sorry, Rachel. I love you but this is for your own good. There's only a certain number of times that we'd be willing to listen to your drama with Finn. It gets old, darling. Besides, I heard that Madame Tibideaux hates it when people interrupt her when she's telling fortunes. Rumor has it that she threw a patron out when his phone rang while she was doing her reading."

"Mrrmhrmmhrmmmhmm!"

"Wow, there are so many people here!" said Brittany, looking around. The Center was packed and she immediately realized the wisdom of getting here early. Within a few minutes of their arrival, the line was cut off and the people who weren't admitted were told to come back next week. Apparently, Madame Tibideaux was going to stay in the city for two weeks but would only be doing readings for two days, one for each week.

"I know! Oh my god, is that _Vogue_ magazine's Isabelle Wright? I have to go and introduce myself, excuse me, ladies." And with that, Kurt disappeared into the crowd, leaving Brittany with a bound and duct-taped Rachel.

After a minute of awkward silence, Brittany spoke up. "So… the weather's nice, isn't it?"

"Mrmmmhrmm!"

"Yeah, I also like this time of the year. Not too hot, not too cold."

"Mhmmhrmmhrmm!"

"Why, thank you. I think you look, er, nice, too… if you'd just get rid of that hot-pink sweater and those yellow knee-high socks. Kurt's right, you know; they just make you look like a diseased candy cane."

"Mhmmhrmm!"

Brittany sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's still a wonder how Kurt isn't able to infect you guys with his good fashion sense. I mean, he and Blaine have been together for seven years now and he still can't pull him away from his bow-tie-and-tight-pants-and-no-socks obsession. And you guys have been friends for just as long and you still can't keep away from the toddler-grandma fusion look. But then again, I guess that's love, you guys getting to keep your own idiosyncrasies and him accepting you two regardless of how your outfits traumatize him every single day."

"Mhrmmm!"

"Oh look, the line's moving along now. I do hope Kurt comes back soon."

By this point, Rachel seems to have deemed it a hopeless cause and she just bowed her head. Which Brittany silently thanked the heavens for. Kurt came back just in time, beaming. They then entered into the vestibule, and, maybe as a sort of apology, Kurt urged Rachel to go in first.

While waiting for her, Kurt filled Brittany in about his encounter with the magazine editor and how she had looked approvingly at his outfit and even complimented him for his fashion sense. She gave him a few tips on which scarf would look best with which particular blazer and in the end, she gave him her calling card. Brittany couldn't help but feel happy for her friend since she knew how much Kurt had wanted to break into the fashion industry, but had been having a difficult time doing so because of lack of connections. But at the same time, she also felt a twinge of jealousy as her friend was now getting a step closer to his dreams.

It's not that Brittany hated her current job as a photographer for the daily paper. She liked it well enough, but she just felt it was too constricting at times, being only limited to taking photos of stuff relevant to the news. She wanted to just take photographs of people, kind of like _The Sartorialist,_ but less of the fashion (though she found the way ordinary people dress quite fascinating) but more of the looks on their faces. She liked photographing people's faces and capturing the emotions that flitted through them. In fact, the walls of her room were covered by strangers' faces, some happy, some sad, some wistful, some fretful.

But of course, those pictures weren't exactly in-demand, so she took the practical road that still had aspects of what she liked doing.

Kurt had lapsed into silence as he giddily texted his boyfriend, Blaine, about his encounter with Isabelle Wright. Brittany looked around her for something to do to pass the time. Her eyes landed on a _Marie Claire_ magazine on one of the chairs that lined the wall. Despite the fact that she didn't exactly read _Marie Claire_ —and in those times when she did, she just snorted at the articles written there—she thought that it was better than letting herself wallow in her thoughts. She reached out to grab it and started flipping through the pages. This issue was filled predominantly with articles on sex and seduction. But one title caught her attention.

_What's Your Number?_

She continued reading.

 _According to research, the average American woman sleeps with 10.5 people in her lifetime_ —wait, what? 0.5 as in one-half of a person? Brittany crinkled her brows as she imagined a person being segmented into two, first horizontally, then vertically. Hmm, she sure had a lot to see in this world. But she quickly shook her head; that was ridiculous. If she herself hadn't seen half-a-person, how could every other woman have? Maybe 0.5 meant that one of those eleven people didn't come, or didn't make the woman come, so it only counted as half. She scanned the article and stopped at the part that said that in America, 96% of the women who had more than twenty lovers have difficulty finding a spouse.

She paused. Then she tried enumerating in her head the people she had slept with. Artie Abrams, Noah Puckerman, Holly Holliday, Ryder Lynn, Brody Weston—

"What are you reading?"

Brittany was jolted out of her thoughts and she instinctively closed the magazine. "Uh… I was just—uh, looking at the ads," she mumbled.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, with a look that plainly said, 'Oh really now.'

Brittany flushed. "Hey, Kurt—" she racked her brain for something to say to distract him. "How many people have you slept with?"

Brilliant, Brittany. Just brilliant.

Now it was Kurt's turn to blush. "W-What? Brittany, that's a very personal question!"

Brittany's mind worked quickly and she turned towards the heavy drapes that separated the vestibule from Madame Tibideaux's lair. "Rachel is sure taking a while."

Kurt was suspicious at the change of subject but was also thankful that they veered away from the topic. "Yeah," he said slowly. "She is taking long."

Relieved, Brittany whispered, "Do you think she managed to remove the duct tape and is now subjecting the poor woman to an endless tirade about Finn and the Tonys?"

"No, I don't think so," said Kurt, frowning. "I don't hear any Broadway tunes being belted out."

"Good point."

At that moment, the heavy drapes parted and Rachel strode out, a fierce, almost manic glow in her eyes, which lost its effect with the duct-tape still on her mouth. She went towards them. "Mmmhrrmmhmmhnnmhrmm!"

Kurt cast a wary look to Brittany. "You think it's safe to remove the tape now?"

Brittany shook her head. "We should wait until we've all had our readings done and are miles away from this place."

Kurt nodded his head in agreement. "You want to go next?"

"Okay."

Brittany stood up and went towards the heavy drapes. What she saw beyond that was an immense dark room, lit only by candles that almost encircled the whole space, with two rows of them on either side of the path that led from the entrance towards the imposing figure of a turbaned woman sitting behind a table covered with crimson cloth.

Brittany's first thought was that this woman had a startling resemblance with Sister Mary Clarence, and she immediately began hearing the first strains of _I will Follow Him_.

Brittany made her way with cautious steps. The woman just looked at her with impassive eyes through her glasses.

"Come on now, we don't have all day."

At that, Brittany quickened her steps. When she finally reached the table, the woman gestured for her to take a seat on the bean bag.

When the woman still didn't say anything, Brittany shifted a little on her seat. "Um, I want to know if—if Lord Tubbington is ever going to find his soulmate."

The woman's dark eyes bored through hers and Brittany felt that her entire being was being scrutinized. She shifted awkwardly under the woman's gaze.

"Give me your left palm."

Brittany's left hand immediately shot towards the table. She gulped as the woman took her hand and began running her fingers through the lines on her palm.

"You are at a crossroads in your life. In the next few days, you will be making decisions that will determine if you are going to stay on your current path or if you are going to make that leap. Security versus passion. Hmm." The woman leaned over the table to peer over carefully at Brittany's palm.

"What do I choose? If I… if I follow my heart, will I succeed?" Brittany blurted out.

The woman just gave her a piercing look. "Your success in any endeavor relies solely on you. I merely point out the points where you are going to make important decisions. The decisions themselves and their outcome are something that I cannot reveal as they will disturb the order of the universe."

"Oh." Brittany bit back her disappointment. She felt a question simmering inside her but she couldn't bring herself to verbalize it. She dropped her gaze to her lap. "What about Lord Tubbington?"

The woman was silent for a while but Brittany didn't dare look up. Finally, she heard a sigh. "You will find your soulmate if you take another look at those who have once been your lovers."

Brittany's head snapped up and she stared at the woman. Her lips were pressed together. "All your decisions in the next few weeks are interconnected, so I advise you, clichéd as it sounds, to choose wisely and to follow your heart."

The woman let go of Brittany's hand. Brittany stood up to go, but just as she was about to turn and leave, the woman spoke again.

"And your cat will also find his soulmate in due time."

**###**

"…and then she said that the encounter I've had will pave the way for my dreams to come true! I'm sure she meant my encounter with Isabelle Wright!" finished Kurt gleefully, setting down his cup of grande, non-fat mocha. They were at the coffee shop across from the Center, talking about Madame Tibideaux's readings.

"That sounds really great, Kurt. I was hoping that she'd be able to tell me how many Tonys I'll win before I'm thirty, or at the very least, if I'll clinch the role of Eliza Doolittle in the upcoming revival of _My Fair Lady_. I am sure I'll be able to do it justice, although I would rather they stage _Funny Girl_ , _Hello, Dolly_ , or even _On a Clear Day You Can See Forever,_ if only so people would discover that I am the heir apparent to Ms. Streisand's greatness. Nevertheless, I think it is still a very good thing for my career to display my versatility as an actress and my talent for accents; I believe that I could still very well play the part of a flower girl hailing from Lisson Grove and her transformation into a lady of high society enough to fool a queen! I've been practicing _Wouldn't It Be Loverly_ every night before I sleep and I daresay I've outdone the great Ms. Julie Andrews. Do you guys want to hear it?"

Before Kurt and Brittany could say no, Rachel closed her eyes and pressed her hands together over her heart. She began singing.

" _All I want is a room somewhere / far away from the cold night air / with one enormous chair / oh, wouldn't it be loverly?"_

"Rachel!" Kurt hissed but she remained oblivious to everything around her.

"We should've kept the duct tape until we parted ways," said Brittany dryly. She took another sip from her cup of no-whipped chocolate. Kurt covered his face in mortification. "Should we leave her?"

"That sounds like a great idea, actually," said Kurt, rising. But he soon noticed the people looking in their direction, as well as the small crowd slowly congregating around their table. He sat back down. "There's no way out now." He covered his face with his hands again.

Brittany just shrugged and was effectively tuning Rachel out when she got to the last few lines of the song.

" _Someone's head resting on my knee / warm and tender as he can be / who takes good care of me / now, wouldn't it be loverly?"_

And just like that, she felt the pang again. Thankfully, the sudden burst of applause following Rachel's performance drove all other thoughts from her head.

Rachel stood up and began curtsying to the crowd. "Thank you, thank you. Do I hear a call for an encore?"

"Let's go?" Kurt whispered. Brittany nodded and they were able to slip through the crowd as Rachel began singing _I could have Danced All Night._

When they were outside of the coffee shop, Brittany couldn't help but tease Kurt. "Are you sure you don't want to go back in there and do a duet with her?"

Kurt just gave her a look. "Although I still enjoy singing, I am very much aware of the proper venues for such performances." He sighed. "You know, Blaine took me out to the amusement park once for an impromptu performance, together with his boy band—"

" _The Warblers?_ "

"Yes, them—though I still do not like that Smythe and his weasel face and the way he keeps on eyeing Blaine like he's the last pair of Louboutins on sale. Anyway, Blaine was trying to show me the joys of such performances but frankly, even at the risk of sounding elitist, I just can't get the thrill unless I'm on a stage, and not just any stage, but the ones that are strictly for musical performances." He paused and a soft look crossed his face and his eyes took on a lambent glow. "But I guess the way he enjoys that kind of thing is rather cute and endearing."

Brittany smiled at the look on her friend's face. She thought of saying _That's so sweet_ or _You're really in love with him, aincha?_ but that veered too close to a topic she didn't want to deal with just yet. So she said, "And you don't find the cute and endearing quality when Rachel does that?"

Kurt pulled a face. "No." He shrugged. "I think that's just part of the package of being in love; the things you normally find annoying can be something charming when it's the person you love who does that." He paused. "Some things, because god knows those bow ties still drive me insane."

Brittany laughed. Kurt rolled his eyes in faux-annoyance but he was smiling. "So anyway, you haven't told us about the Great La Tibideaux's reading on your future."

Brittany bit her lip. "She said that Lord Tubbington is gonna find his soulmate in due time."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Lord Tubbington… or you?"

"Lord Tubbington," she answered promptly. Kurt continued looking at her, making her squirm under his gaze. "What? That's what I came to find out."

Kurt was torn between grilling Brittany further and letting this slide, but then he remembered how Brittany would expertly obfuscate her words when she didn't want to talk about certain things so he decided to let things go. For now. "Okay, whatever you say, Britt."

"Rachel hasn't talked about Finn," said Brittany, changing the topic. "I thought that was one of her reasons for coming?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to talk about it yet," said Kurt pointedly.

Brittany coughed. "Well, would you look at the time," she exclaimed, looking at her wrist despite the glaringly obvious fact that she wasn't wearing a watch. "I've got to go and tell Lord Tubbington the good news and I've got to get ready for my sister's party!" She leaned over to kiss Kurt's cheek. "See you around, Kurt."

Kurt forced a smile. "Bye, Britt."

As Brittany walked away, she heard in her head strains of the song Rachel sang earlier. She smiled softly.

_Yes, it would be. Loverly._

**###**

Brittany was fumbling for the keys to her apartment for five minutes now. She paused and wondered if Lord Tubbington had found a way to open the door, so she started calling to him, interspersing it with meows and purrs, when she heard a door open behind her.

"I sincerely hope this isn't a prelude to a catfight with your door."

Brittany turned around and found herself facing her neighbor from unit 6A. 6A had just moved in two weeks ago and, had Brittany not been busy with work, staking out to get good shots of the disgraced congresswoman Sue Sylvester—who had been found guilty of causing intense emotional distress on her assistants through verbal abuse resulting in nervous breakdowns—and helping out her sister with the wedding, she would have come over to say hello. As it was, the past weeks have been hectic for her and this was the first time that she actually had a good look at her neighbor.

And man, what a look it was.

6A looked like she stepped out of the front cover of _FHM_ magazine in her red plaid button-down—with only one of the last buttons actually buttoned, showing an ample amount of cleavage—and white cotton briefs that accentuated her slim almost-boyish hips. But it wasn't just 6A's toned body that had Brittany stupefied; it was her face, too, her beautiful face with dark brown eyes that had a mischievous light in them, her cute perfectly shaped nose, those plump lips lifted in a smirk, and the black wavy locks that framed these features.

6A was drop-dead gorgeous.

When Brittany just stood there gaping, 6A lifted an eyebrow. She lifted her rolled-up newspaper and began tapping it against her shoulder. "Like what you see?"

That snapped Brittany out of her haze and she felt her face heat up. "I-I… uh, hi, I'm 6C, I live here."

"Well, _6C,_ I hope you have informed your friend of the appropriate times to have a screaming match with your door."

Brittany gulped. "I… uh, I think you've already scared him away from that."

"Did I?" said 6A, raising her eyebrows in mock-surprise.

"Yeah, well, I gotta go in now." Brittany turned away from the woman and fortunately, she found the right key, so she was able to let herself in. When she was halfway through the door, she turned to look at her neighbor, who was still standing there with that amused expression on her face. "It was nice meeting you, um, sorry, I didn't get your name."

The woman just grinned. "I'm 6A, 6C."

Brittany blushed when she realized that she had never given out her own name in the first place. She opened her mouth to say something but 6A already turned around and went back inside her apartment, closing the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh good, you're here!"

"Hi, mom." Brittany leaned to kiss her mother on the cheek. "Sorry I'm late; Lord Tubbington's blood pressure shot up when I told him that—"

"Mm-hmm, that's nice," Mrs. Pierce said distractedly. She glanced over Brittany's shoulder before furrowing her brows. "Are you still with that Jane Addams woman?"

"Aphasia? No, we… well, she broke up with me a couple of weeks back. Something about wanting to explore greener pastures, which doesn't make sense since as far as I know she isn't a were-cow and if she wanted to explore pastures, I could have gone with her since I've been thinking I need a vacation and—"

"Brittany, what on earth are you talking about?" Mrs. Pierce turned back to her daughter.

"Uh." Brittany bit her lip. "Were-cows?"

"Why don't you go upstairs and help your sister with her dress?" Mrs. Pierce began walking towards the garden without waiting for Brittany's reply.

"Bye, mom," she whispered, a forlorn figure at the foot of the stairs. She lingered for a minute longer before climbing up the steps. She walked over to her sister's room and found the door slightly ajar. She pushed it open. "Hailey?"

"Brittany!"

Brittany was knocked a few steps back with the hug tackle from her sister. She wrapped her arms around Hailey's waist and lifted her up. "What's with the overenthusiastic welcome?" she joked. "We just saw each other last week."

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you!" Hailey took a few step back. "But first, what do you think?" She twirled before Brittany, making her pale blue silk dress rustle.

"Breathtaking. Heart-stopping. Oh, tear-jerking!"

Hailey giggled. "I get the first two, but I don't think the last one is the appropriate term to use."

"Oh, it's totally appropriate. Can't you see the tears in my eyes?"

This time, Hailey full-on laughed. "You're such a goof, Britt." She stepped closer to her sister and hugged her again, with much less force than earlier. She sighed. "Mom has been driving me crazy."

"You mean even more than usual?"

"Yeah. It seems like it's _her_ wedding that's coming up, and not mine. She almost had everything we had picked out replaced with what _she_ thought would be more suitable to _my_ wedding." Hailey pulled back. "It's just… I know she's frustrated with the lack of ceremony in her own wedding, but she doesn't have to highjack mine."

Brittany tucked back a stray golden curl behind her sister's ear. "Just be patient with her, okay? She's had a lot to deal with since Dad died."

" _You've_ had a lot to deal with since Dad died." Hailey looked at her with an earnest expression on her face. "You were the one who kept the family together."

Brittany could feel her eyes stinging with tears. "Aw, Hay, no fair. Don't make me redo my make-up."

Hailey just smiled and handed her some tissue. "Just giving you a hint to how I'd like to feel when you give your toast," she teased.

"Oh don't you worry," said Brittany, dabbing the edges of her eyes. "I've had it written down for weeks."

Hailey made an exaggerated gasp while putting her hand against her heart. "Oh mercy, she prepared something!"

"Oh stop." Brittany shoved her sister playfully. "Of course I had a lot to say about the epic romance between you and Wes Brody."

"I hope it doesn't include him having a crush on you when we were seven?"

Brittany laughed. "Of course not. It's all about how you two met when you were wee little things, had been together since then, broke up in high school and then found your way back into each other's arms again at the reunion—the whole shebang."

"All right, all right." Hailey paused. "You've done so much for me these past few weeks, Britt; and just so you know, I'd totally do the same for you." She grinned. "So you better hurry up and find your future hubby-or-wifey and propose and stuff—but please wait until after I return from my honeymoon before you schedule your wedding."

Brittany laughed, but she couldn't help but feel something prick her heart. "Of course."

"Oh shoot! I've got to go downstairs now. You coming with me?"

"Nah, I'll stay here for a bit and retouch my make-up."

"Okay, don't take too long."

"Okay."

When Brittany was alone in the room, she went over to the dressing-table and sat on the chair. She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in the lines on the sides of her eyes, her mouth. To be honest, she hadn't thought about settling down until Hailey broke the news of her engagement. And from that moment on, it had stayed on her mind, despite her best efforts to get it out. If Brittany was to list the reasons why this bothered her so, the fact that her _younger_ sister was getting married would be the last of it. It had more to do with the fact that she had always dreamed of this herself, of getting married and settling down, ever since she was a little girl. And yes, she has had her fun in those strings of relationships and almost-slash-could-be-considered-as-but-not-quite- sure relationships she had been in, but for most of them, she had hoped it would last. And now, she was thirty-something (she never really took note of the numbers in between the decade flagstones since they hardly seemed to matter and they were more trouble to remember than their worth; in fact, the last age she thought that mattered was 21 and that was because it meant that she could legally drink alcohol) and still single, and if she didn't hurry up the window for her to make babies might close. What's worse, if she didn't meet the person she was destined to be with soon, they would have less and less time to be together.

She sighed and tried to push these thoughts back. _Just until after the party,_ she thought. She picked up the eyeliner and started redoing her make-up.

**###**

"Sooo, how was the party?"

"It was great."

Kurt smirked. "Oh, is that why we're out drinking instead of you partying it up with your sister?"

"The party was over an hour ago."

Kurt rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious ploy at being dense. "Britt."

"Besides, I was never really close to any of the guests; they were more of Hailey's friends than mine and—you know, I don't have much truck with making friends," said Brittany, mumbling the last part.

Kurt reached out to squeeze his friend's hands. "Quality over quantity. Does Hailey have a fantastically fabulous flaming fashionista friend like me?" he asked, fluttering his eyes.

Brittany bit back a grin. "No, she doesn't. In fact, I doubt any of them could preface themselves with five alligators."

"Alliterations."

"Isn't that what I said?"

Kurt just shook his head. "So, anyway what are we celebrating or commiserating about?"

"I've done a lot of thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that I want to get married and settle down."

"Don't we all?"

"Adam Levine doesn't seem to have that in mind."

"Good point," Kurt conceded, nodding. "You were saying?"

"Oh, right. So I've decided to track down my exes to see who among them is the one I'm destined to be with."

"Wait, what makes you think that it's really one of your exes?"

Brittany blushed. "Well, there were… signs." She coughed when Kurt narrowed his eyes. "There was this _Marie Claire_ article and—and Madame Tibideaux said the same thing," she said, rushing the last part of her sentence.

"Are you seriously putting a _Marie Claire_ article on the same level with Madame Tibideaux's readings? You know, Britt, I try my best not to judge you for anything but you're really making it difficult for me right now."

"Hey, I always look for at least two signs before I decide something!" said Brittany defensively.

"Two signs?"

"Yeah, 'cause like in math problems you need at least two signs, right? If it's just one plus one and no equals sign, then what are you supposed to do?"

Kurt paused as he mulled this over. "Hmm, that makes sense." He took a sip from his appletini. "So how many people do you have to track down?"

"Uh… twenty?"

Kurt's eyes bugged out. "No shit."

Brittany squirmed in her seat. She coughed again. "Anyway, it all makes sense, Kurt. According to that _Marie Claire_ article, women who have had more than twenty lovers have difficulty in finding a spouse, and then Madame Tibideaux said that I'll find my soulmate if I take another shot at the people I have slept with!"

Kurt winced at the mention of the magazine and the renowned fortuneteller in the same breath. "Britt…" He took another sip from his drink. "Let's put aside Madame Tibideaux's reading for a moment; what makes you think that your soulmate is really one of your exes? For all you know it could be the next person you meet."

"Nobody else seems to find the one they're meant to be with beyond that number. I mean all the people I know found theirs before they even reached ten," Brittany said slowly. "Like you and Blaine, Hailey and Wes, Burt and Carole."

"But that doesn't mean anything!"

"It does, when on this day, two things conspired to let me know that I have to look back, Kurt." Brittany sighed. "Besides, I'm not exactly the top unit in the market. I'm getting older, and I've always had difficulty in keeping relationships. My best chance is going back to those people who already know me."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Okay, fine. Do what you have to do. Just tell me what I can do to help."

Brittany gave him a genuine smile. "Thanks, Kurt."

**###**

When Brittany opened the door that Sunday morning, she wasn't expecting to see her neighbor, 6A—fully clothed this time in a gray shirt and ripped jeans—holding a rolled-up newspaper.

"Uh, hello?"

"Hey!" said 6A brightly. Too brightly. Like ten-thousand megawatts bright. "I got locked out of my apartment and all, and I was wondering if I could come in and use your phone to call the locksmith?"

Brittany just stared at her. When 6A just looked back at her expectantly with that too-bright smile on her face, she coughed and stuttered, "Uh, I guess. I mean, sure. Come on in."

"Oh, here's your paper." 6A strode into the apartment. Before Brittany realized what was happening, 6A immediately began going into the rooms one by one—the guest room, the bathroom… Brittany's bedroom.

"H-Hey!"

"Wow, so it really is true! Is this the infamous Lord Tubbington, the dread Cat Mafia Godfather? Honestly, I didn't think such a fat cat existed in real life but—whoa! If I didn't know any better I'd think you were a serial killer."

When Brittany entered her bedroom, she found 6A staring at her wall of photos. She felt her face burn with embarrassment. "Would you please get out of my room? Lord Tubbington hates it when strangers invade his personal space."

6A turned her attention from the wall to Brittany. She was wearing a queer expression on her face, like she just made a discovery she couldn't make heads or tails of yet. But this was gone in a moment and she smiled again, this time a thousand megawatts less than the one she had greeted Brittany with earlier.

"Oh right, sorry," said 6A, moving out of the bedroom and back towards the living room. "I've got this nasty habit of going through the stuff in places I find myself in. It's gotten so bad before—I rifled through my roommates' stuff—that I got kicked out of my living space. Though it may also have been because I've turned the loft into a 'sex den' of sorts—their words, not mine. Anyway, I've been seeing a therapist since—for the rifling through stuff, not the sex; and we're making great progress but I still get the urge to check out the rooms in every place I find myself in."

Brittany noticed that 6A was fidgeting. "Is something the matter?"

6A gave a start. "What, no!" she laughed, but there was a nervous edge to her laughter. "It's just too early, is all."

Brittany eyed her dubiously. "Okay. Well, here's the phone," she said, handing it to the other woman.

6A just looked at the proffered gadget blankly.

"Weren't you going to call the locksmith?"

"Oh, right, right." She took the phone but then put it down after staring at it for a minute. "That can wait. Why don't we just chat for a bit? You know, since we're neighbors and all."

Now, Brittany was more than a little suspicious. She remembered Kurt's words yesterday and her heartbeat sped up. She started walking backwards to her apartment door, all the while keeping her eyes on the woman, readying herself for a shank attack. "Uh, okay. So, what did you want to talk about?"

6A looked at the stack of photos on the coffee table, the ones Brittany hadn't gotten around to sorting out yet. 6A took a few and looked at them carefully. "You take really good pictures," she said, not looking up. "Why don't you set up an exhibit?"

By this point, Brittany had reached the door and was now turning the knob. "Nobody's really interested in portraits anymore, especially of strangers."

A small frown creased 6A's features. "That's not true; you just need the right contacts, that's all." She flipped through more of the photos. "I just think it's a shame that you're wasting your talents on the newspaper, you know? Oh, this one's really good!" She lifted up a black-and-white photo of a little girl who seemed to be whispering something to the tummy of a pregnant woman through her cupped hands. The little girl seemed earnest in her task, like she was whispering the secrets of the universe to the unborn child.

6A, who had turned towards Brittany when she lifted the photo, widened her eyes at the sight of the slightly open door. She immediately rolled over the couch and ducked behind it.

Confused at the chain of events, Brittany frowned. "Wha—?" but she was cut off by the sound of a closing door behind her. She turned around and saw a woman wearing a fedora hat coming out of the apartment 6A. She caught Brittany's eyes on her and she looked back with a piercing gaze that gave Brittany goosebumps. Then, without a word, the woman glided to the stairs and down the steps.

Still feeling the nasty chill from the encounter, Brittany shivered as she closed her door. Then something clicked inside her head. She turned around and found herself looking at a pair of brown eyes peeking from behind the couch. "You know, you could have just knocked on your door if you locked yourself out," she said, an amused smile on her face. She crossed her arms as 6A stood up, wearing a sheepish look.

She shrugged her shoulders, embarrassed. "Sorry, I needed an out."

Brittany just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Your usual tactics didn't work?"

"You don't understand! When I woke up earlier, I could feel that woman looking at me in that creepy intense way so I pretended to still be asleep and waited for her to doze off again. Fortunately, she did—I guess even eagle eyes need some rest. Anyway, when I got up, I took a peek at her bag and saw all these voodoo manuals with her Virginia Woolf books and I got freaked out and dressed myself and showed up here." Brittany sucked in her lips to keep herself from laughing. "Hey, it's not funny! That bitch be cray!"

"Maybe she's just trying to be blatant on how much she's into the V?" Brittany teased.

"Right," 6A said dryly, making Brittany laugh out loud.

"So why did you take her home then?"

6A shrugged again. "Was drunk and horny."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Well, you deserve what you get."

"Anyway, thanks for helping me out, Brittany." 6A made her way to the door.

"Wait, hold up." 6A stopped. Brittany narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "How did you know my name? Thinking about it—how did you know about Lord Tubbington and my job?"

6A laughed. "I'm not a stalker, if that's what you're asking. Though we'd make a good detective two-shot, you taking pictures and me digging up info. I just do background checks on people I live around with, 'cause I've learned the hard way of the dangers of living in the same building with a vengeful ex, or a friend of a vengeful ex."

A light bulb went on inside Brittany's head. "So you're good at finding out stuff about people?"

"Well yeah. My brother's a cop and he used to ask for my help looking for evidence and shit 'cause of my skills."

"Can you help me track down a few people?"

6A paused. "Is this some type of investigative journalism shit?"

Brittany shook her head. "No, I—I just want to know where my exes are, how they're doing and if," she blushed, "you know, maybe one of them is really the right one for me and I just have to give it another shot."

"Honey, exes are called exes for a reason. And no, I can't do that. I don't want to take part in your living out an Adele fantasy."

She opened the door and was halfway out when Brittany asked, "What do you mean by that?"

6A turned back, letting out a frustrated sigh while running her hand through her hair. "You're setting yourself up for heartbreak and disappointment and I just don't want to be partly responsible for that. Romance is stupid. Why don't you just settle for sex? You're hot and I'm sure you'd have no problem scoring. Hell, I'd sleep with you if only you weren't my neighbor."

Brittany flushed at that, but her annoyance won out. "You know, some people want something more meaningful out of life than random sex."

"They do?" asked 6A, raising her eyebrows. Brittany frowned and crossed her arms across her chest when 6A spoke up again. "Fine, fine. God, sometimes I hate that pretty women are my weakness," she muttered. She sighed. "Just give me all info you have on them and I'll look them up."

Immediately, all of Brittany's annoyance evaporated. She beamed. "Really? You'd do that?"

6A just stared at her. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks but she quickly covered it up with a cough. "Yeah, just as long you'd give me an out whenever I need it. And that I can hide out here as well."

Brittany worried her lower lip with her teeth for a moment. Finally, she sighed. "All right."

"It's a deal then. The name's Santana, by the way. Santana Lopez."

"Brittany Pierce."

"I know," Santana smirked. "Well, again, thank you for your help earlier."

Brittany shrugged. Just as she was closing the door, she heard Santana say, "I'm telling you though, you look like you still have a couple of miles on you before you end up like 1B! And you need forty-one more cats!"

Brittany laughed. "Good day to you too, Santana," she called out before closing the door with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, okay here's the list, along with all the info I can find on them."

"Hmm, twenty… impressive." Santana leaned against the railing as she studied the list. "So I just have to find out if they're alive and single, right?"

Brittany bit her lip. "Basically." She looked over at the park where families were having a picnic. "If they have secret children too or whatever. I prioritized the list so start at the top."

"Mike Chang, huh? Is he the one that got away?"

Brittany fiddled with the cover of her Starbucks coffee. "Something like that. We met at dance class when we were both in middle school. But his family moved to San Francisco in our senior year and I've lost touch with him since."

"Well, that sucks. Chang is a pretty common Chinese surname so it might take a while to trace him. But what else have you got on him?"

"His father's name is also Mike Chang, and he's a lawyer and from what I remember they were setting Mike up to follow in his footsteps. He mentioned about going to Stanford."

"Okay, well, I can start by taking a look at the alumni roster. Anything else on anyone?"

"All that I know is in the list." Brittany smiled. "If I had any other info, I wouldn't need your help."

Santana laughed. "Touché. So next is Holly Holliday—wait, is this really her name? It sounds like a porn star name."

"Yeah it is. I think she might have ventured into that industry. Or was it a strip club? She's pretty wild and adventurous." Brittany's eyes glazed over in the haze of recollection. "She's probably the best sex I've ever had."

"Well you've never had sex with me," Santana quipped. When Brittany's cheeks turned pink, she laughed. "Don't worry, I'll keep my professional distance. Besides, as I've said, neighbors are off-limits. It's pretty difficult finding a decent living space here nowadays." She turned back to the list. "Oh my god! You've hooked up with David Martinez? Damn! I'd give up my gold star status for him in a heartbeat."

"How'd you know him?" Brittany asked curiously.

"Oh right, you probably don't watch Mexican soaps. He's the star of the currently number one prime-time soap _La Isla Bonita_. So yeah, you should probably cross him off the list unless you're planning on moving to Mexico." She looked at the bottom of the list. "So why are these four names crossed out?"

"I just realized this morning when I was looking at the list that they're probably the ones I wouldn't mind not seeing again, you know? Bryan was the most cynical person I've ever met—he had me write down my dream on a paper and then ripped it up."

Santana eyebrows shot up. "Wow. Why'd you hook up with him then?"

Brittany furrowed her brows as she thought about it for a moment. "I honestly can't remember."

"Cooper Anderson?"

"Uh… he's the brother of my best friend's boyfriend and none of them knew we hooked up, so it's kind of awkward."

Santana nodded in understanding. "Brody Weston?"

Brittany shifted uncomfortably. "He's my friend's ex."

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Hooked up with him when he was already her ex?"

"Um, no."

"Oh, wow. Didn't expect you to be a homewrecker."

Brittany flushed. "They were in an open relationship and, besides, we weren't really friends yet then."

"And that friend… she still your friend now?"

"Sort of." Brittany shifted again. "Besides, I didn't know Brody was a gigolo until he asked me to pay up after."

Santana's eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect 'o.' "Wow, that is… a story to tell the kids. You sure you don't want to give him another shot?" she couldn't help but tease. Brittany just turned an even deeper shade of red and shook her head vehemently. Santana laughed and looked at the list again. "And Aphasia?"

"Oh, she's the last person I dated. She broke up with me, saying she'd want to explore greener pastures."

Santana snorted. "What is she, a cow?"

Brittany's eyes widened. "Exactly! I thought the same thing; I wondered if she was a were-cow or something."

"Probably, I mean, who goes around giving out just their first name? And Aphasia doesn't even sound like a real name. Like it's one you'd think of if you're hiding from the law or—"

"A were-cow in disguise!"

They looked at each other before bursting into laughter.

When Brittany had calmed down, she wiped the tears from the corner of her eye. "I'm so glad to find somebody who didn't think it was weird that I thought of cows when I talked about her break-up line."

"Are you kidding? It was just begging for it!" said Santana, still grinning broadly. They stood there looking at each other for a while, smiling at the glow of a shared joke.

Brittany couldn't help but think that Santana looked even prettier wearing a goofy grin than a seductive smirk. She was about to say so when Santana coughed awkwardly, breaking the spell of the moment.

"Well, I better get started then. I still have some hours before I have to hit the club, so." She pushed herself away from the railing. She waved the list and said, "I'll drop by your apartment later."

"Oh, okay." Brittany dug something out from her purse. She stretched out her fist. "Here you go."

Santana raised an eyebrow but opened her palm nonetheless. Brittany dropped a key to her hand. "Oh. Oh!" She gave Brittany a bemused look. "My, my, my, aren't we moving too fast? We haven't even gone out on a date yet."

Brittany flushed. "Wait—this is—you said that you'd hide out at my place and sometimes I'm at stake-outs and—this isn't—I wasn't—"

Santana laughed. "Just messing with ya. You sure, though? I'm still a stranger." When Brittany just looked at her, she prompted, "Stranger danger?"

"You're not a stranger. Well, at least you don't feel like one to me." Santana gave her a questioning look but Brittany just continued. "Besides, Lord Tubbington makes an excellent guard cat. He'll keep you in line if ever anything's amiss."

Santana took in this last piece of information with a dubious look. "Okay, whatever you say. Oh yeah, why don't we exchange numbers, so that I can give you quick updates."

"Okay." Brittany fumbled for her phone. She handed it to Santana as Santana gave her hers. She took out her notepad from her bag to check her number. She held the notepad on one hand and the phone on the other and started typing in her contact details. When she was done, she made a motion to hand the phone back to Santana but she was still typing. She was wearing a little frown. "Do you forget your letters and numbers, too?"

Santana looked up. "What?"

"Sometimes I get confused with letters and numbers, too. I've had to practice writing down my name a hundred times before I got it right and even now, I still make mistakes. Numbers are even more difficult; for some reason, my brain just scrambles them so I always keep a notepad with me where I keep numbers and stuff…" Brittany trailed off, blushing when she realized she was rambling. "Uh… never mind."

But Santana just gave a half-smile. "Yeah, I get what you mean. I used to mess up the lyrics of songs a lot until Wheezy—I mean, Mercedes, she's my friend who owns the club I work at—sat me down and had me sing the same song over and over again until I got it right."

"So you sing for a living?"

"Yeah, at the _Troubletones_."

Brittany beamed. "That sounds really cool. Do you sing there every night?"

"No, just Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays. Mercedes sings on other days." Santana opened her mouth to say more but changed her mind.

"Aren't you gonna invite me to come watch?" Brittany teased.

Santana rolled her eyes while biting back a smile. "Nah. The club's my safe place." She paused for a moment. "I'm not even sure why I told you I work there in the first place." Before Brittany could reply to that, Santana resumed tapping at the phone. After a few moments, she was done and she handed it back to Brittany while Brittany handed over hers.

When Santana still didn't say anything, Brittany cleared her throat. "So, yeah, see you tonight? I have work to do so I'll probably be home late."

"No problem. My hours at the club tend to go late anyway. And tends to go even later when things go well, if you know what I mean," said Santana, waggling her eyebrows. Brittany rolled her eyes, making Santana laugh. "Don't worry, I'll do my job."

"You better."

Santana laughed again. "See you later, honey!"

Brittany tried not to falter at the term of endearment—of joking endearment—but she couldn't stop the warm feeling in her chest.

**###**

Brittany was reviewing the pictures she took of Will Schuester, a local high school teacher who was on trial for making improper advances on his students, when her phone blasted out the chorus to _Call Me, Maybe,_ earning her glares from her co-workers. She immediately grabbed her phone to cut off the ringtone, wondering in her panic if Lord Tubbington had changed the settings again. She was sure she had it on silent.

When she saw who texted her, she felt a mix of irritation and amusement. Santana Lopez.

_-Today's your lucky day—or not, but I found Hank Saunders. Can you get off work in an hour?_

Brittany looked at the time and saw that it was already five.

"Hey, Sunshine," she whispered across her desk.

The tiny woman who had been furiously typing away on her laptop paused and looked up. "Yes, Brittany?"

"Do we have anywhere else to be today?"

Sunshine tilted her head to the side. "No. I'm just finishing up this article on the Schuester case and you already have the photos, right?" Brittany nodded. "Well, just print out the best ones and we'll be done for the day."

Brittany grinned. "Awesome."

She quickly typed back a response to Santana.

_-sure thing where do we meet?_

It only took a few seconds before _Call Me, Maybe_ filled the air again. Brittany blushed and tapped on her phone to cut off the ringtone.

_-Bakery down 4th St._

_-ok will be there_

And for good measure, she set her settings to silent again.

**###**

When Brittany arrived at the bakery, she couldn't find Santana. She was about to text her when she saw her standing by the counter, flirting with the cashier. She rolled her eyes and debated whether to interrupt or not when the doorbell chimed and a tall man with dark hair strode in.

He grabbed a tray and a pair of tongs and walked past Brittany and went straight to the breads on display on the counter. Brittany stood stock-still, still reeling from the surprise of seeing somebody she hadn't seen in a long time. Sure, she had anticipated this when she thought of tracking down her exes but seeing them in person was an entirely different matter.

"You know, I highly doubt staring will lead you to your desired end."

Brittany jumped at the sound of Santana's voice close to her ear. She whirled around and saw the woman grinning at her. She jerked her head towards the tall dark-haired man who was still looking at the display.

Brittany nodded and she made her way towards him. "Hey Hank!"

The man turned around in surprise. He looked at Brittany carefully. "Um, yes?"

"Fancy meeting you here. It's been a while!"

The man shifted uncomfortably. "Do I know you?"

Brittany's smile faltered. "It's me, Brittany. Brittany Pierce? We went to high school together."

The man furrowed his brows in confusion. "Brittany…" he muttered to himself, trying to place the name.

"We auditioned for Glee Club together!"

The man's eyes widened and his face paled. He dropped the tray and tongs. He shook his head vehemently. "No! No! I wasn't—there wasn't any Glee club—I-I—" He swallowed and dashed out of the bakery.

"Wow, did you give him a terrible handjob or something?" Santana asked, picking up the tray and tongs and placing them on the counter. Brittany shook her head. "We fooled around a bit before the auditions and I'm pretty sure I made him come in less than a minute."

Santana scrunched up her nose. "Okay, didn't have to know that."

"You started it," Brittany reminded her.

Santana shrugged. "Well then, did something else happen in the Glee club? He seemed spooked when you mentioned it."

"Nothing, really. The club director, Sandy Ryerson, was fired shortly after the auditions so the Glee club never really materialized."

"Why was he fired?"

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know; all that I can remember is that he was given a restraining order to stay away from the students."

After a few seconds, they looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Um, want to pursue this guy, or should we move on to the next?"

Brittany bit her lip. "Next."

**###**

When Brittany walked into her living room still half-asleep, she didn't expect to find Santana sleeping on her couch. Wearing just a sea-green tank top and black panties.

She must have let out a loud gasp since Santana stirred and cracked one eye open.

"G'morning," she mumbled.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Elaine to leave." Santana rolled over to her side and shut her eye again. She blindly reached for the pillow that fell on the floor and hugged it to her chest. Brittany was momentarily distracted by how adorable she looked curled up like Lord Tubbington. But she remembered how she had stayed up waiting for her.

"You didn't drop by last night because you hooked up with somebody?"

"I found Hank Saunders, didn't I?" Santana grumbled sleepily.

"I waited for you." The moment the words came out of Brittany's mouth, she instantly regretted them. They sounded so weak and pathetic and whiny and—why the heck should it even matter?

Santana slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a couple of times before focusing on Brittany. "Why?"

"'Cause you said you would drop by." The words escaped Brittany's mouth before she could think about it.

Santana sat up gingerly, still hugging the pillow. She looked at Brittany with such scrutiny that she squirmed where she stood. Brittany was about to make an offhand comment about the weather to diffuse the tension when Santana spoke up. "I'm sorry."

Brittany didn't know which shocked her more, the apology itself or the soft way that Santana said it. She cleared her throat but her words still came out mumbled. "You want coffee?"

Santana looked at her in surprise. "Uh… sure."

Brittany nodded and hastily made her way to the kitchen. Or what used to be her kitchen. A part of it has been cleared and a corkboard covered the wall, complete with pictures and diagrams and name tags of the people in her list. She was still staring at it when she heard Santana come up behind her.

"My brother used to make one like this when they were looking for people and stuff. Makes it easier to keep track of the details."

Regaining herself, Brittany turned around and smiled. "Are you sure this isn't just to impress me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Picking up the teasing tone, Santana relaxed. She smirked back. "Depends. Is it working?"

Brittany shook her head, still smiling. "Any progress since Hank?"

"Well, I found out that numbers ten and twelve are married—not to each other," she added. "Artie Abrams, director of indie films, is married to Tina Cohen-Chang. Carl Howell, dentist, is married to Emma Pillsbury."

"Aww, I always knew Artie and Tina would end up back together!" squealed Brittany, clapping her hands together.

Santana looked at her in disbelief before shaking her head. "You're really something else, aren't you?" she chuckled.

Brittany looked at Santana for a moment then she dropped her gaze and started scuffing the floor with her toe. "Sorry for sounding so clingy earlier."

"It's—It's fine," Santana mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. "I should've kept my word anyway." She cleared her throat. "So, you were saying something about coffee?"

"Oh, right." Brittany opened the cabinet for the coffee when she realized that she had run out. "Shoot, I forgot I'm out. I'll just grab some from the coffee shop downstairs."

"Hey, no, it's fine—"

"After the work you did? It's the least I can do," said Brittany, already halfway to the door. She grabbed her gray hoodie hanging by the coat rack and slipped it on. She hastily tied her hair up in a messy bun with one of the scrunchies she usually slipped in the pocket. "I'm opening the door now," she announced, one hand on the knob.

There was no reply, only a faint sound of scurrying feet. Brittany chuckled as she opened the door and went out. Just as she was closing the door behind her, she heard the door from 6A open and when she looked up, she saw a woman with long brown hair exiting the unit. She took a swift glance at Brittany before hurrying down the stairs.

Brittany stood still for a moment, waiting until the sound of the woman's footsteps died away.

What struck Brittany was the woman's eyes. For a brief moment, she wondered if it meant something that they shared the same shade of blue but she shook her head. She was thinking too much.

She made her way downstairs.

**###**

When she returned to her apartment, she didn't see Santana anywhere.

"Santana?"

"Behind the couch."

She set the coffee down on the table and leaned over the back of the couch where she found Santana sitting on the floor, intent on a staring match with Lord Tubbington.

"Why are you hiding back there?" she asked, smiling.

"Just making sure Elaine doesn't see me."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "She already left, you know."

Santana broke off the eye contact with the cat and turned around to face Brittany. "Well, she might come back. Who knows?"

"Then why didn't you just sleep at her place and walk-of-shame your way out in the morning? That way she wouldn't know where you're staying at."

"Yeah but how would I know if she didn't have, like, a tripwire security system that could unleash the hounds of hell on me the moment I set my foot on the floor while she was still asleep? Or if she has some hidden camera or something and she's into recording stuff." Santana shivered. "I was almost sextaped once. Good thing I saw the camera right away. After that, never again."

"That's terrible." After a beat, she asked, "So why do you sleep around?"

Santana looked at her in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking that? I just like sex. Sex is great."

"I know," Brittany nodded in agreement. "But, like, don't you want to just settle for one person?"

Santana scoffed at that. "And what, deprive the rest of the lady population of this?" she asked, gesturing to her body. Brittany rolled her eyes. "Besides, I'm like a lizard; I need something warm underneath me or else I can't digest my food. It doesn't really matter who I sleep with."

Brittany should feel irritated by her casual dismissal of the women she had slept with but all she could think about was that Santana was always on top.

Hm.

How Brittany would love to change that.

Her eyes widened when she realized what she had been thinking. She quickly turned around and rolled off the couch. "Your coffee's on the table." She hesitated for a moment. "I have some work to finish, so I think it's better if you go."

Santana laughed. "Wow, talk about hot and cold."

"What?"

"Earlier you seemed pissed that I didn't drop by last night and now you want to kick me out. Can't blame ya though; this body is distracting. Don't feel too bad; anybody would've wanted to get up on all this," she said while gesturing to her body again.

Despite herself, Brittany found her eyes trailing along the other woman's figure this time around. She flushed when she realized what she was doing and immediately she snapped her eyes back to the other woman's.

Santana was wearing a smug smile on her face.

Brittany felt her face burn. "Shut up."

Santana got up, laughing. "All right, all right, no need to be so hostile," she grinned. She padded over to the front door. Before she left, she turned around and winked. "See you later, honey."


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh Brittany darlin'!"

"Kurt! Hey," she greeted him with a cheek-kiss. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to see how you're doing and if you have tracked down your exes yet."

"Working on it. Come on in." As Brittany opened the door wider to let Kurt in, the door to 6A opened and Santana appeared wearing a thin black shirt that didn't do much in covering her up and purple underwear. She picked up her newspaper, saw them and waved.

Brittany returned her smile and wave. Santana then went back inside, reading the newspaper, closing the door behind her.

"Does she always open her door three-fourths naked?" Kurt asked walking into the apartment and settling himself on the couch.

Brittany shrugged. "Yeah. She's got a nice body." Kurt eyed her suspiciously. "What?"

"You're not hooking up with her, are you?"

"No, I'm not!" Brittany hastily denied. "But if I am, is there anything wrong with that?"

Kurt pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "Well, no, not really. If you aren't serious on your quest on reviewing your bag of used clothing, that is."

Brittany frowned. "I was on that quest?"

Kurt shook his head. "Never mind. Ooh, have you heard about Rachel?"

Brittany gave a wry smile. "You know I haven't."

"Right, right. Get this," he lowered his voice to a whisper. "She's dating someone."

"Um, hooray?"

Kurt ignored her lack of enthusiasm and proceeded to squeal, "She's dating Quinn Fabray!"

That caught Brittany's attention. "District Attorney Quinn Fabray?"

"Yup! I think she's finally over Finn."

"Good for her." Brittany smiled. "I really mean it this time, good for her."

"So anyway, how are you, how's the wedding and how's your soulmate?"

"I'm doing okay. Work's been boring but hey, look! I took some pictures at the subway and I think they turned out great."

Kurt squinted at the photos Brittany shoved to his face. "Oh my god, what is that woman wearing? That scarf-and-hat combo makes her look like a moose on a noose! And is she seriously wearing that Powerpuff Girl-inspired dress? There's a reason why dresses like these were worn by pre-k characters. Because they're _for_ pre-k characters." He flipped through the photos. "This is one of the greatest tragedies in our age: the epidemic of terrible fashion sense."

Brittany's face fell but she shook her head and just took the photos from Kurt.

"So, how's soulmate-hunting coming along?"

"It's going okay. Santana and I have narrowed down the list to ten and—"

"Wait, who's Santana?"

"Oh, Santana, my neighbor, 6A?"

"The—the shank woman?! She's helping you out?"

"Yeah, in exchange for letting her hide out in here while her—er, lady-of-the-night sneaks away."

Kurt frowned. "Are you sure that's wise, Brittany? I mean, you don't even know the woman. For all you know, she could be a serial killer or something."

"Funny thing she thought I was, too." Kurt gave her a look. She shrugged. "Anyway, I know stuff about her like where she works, what she does, and that she hates the Great Gazoo from the _Flintstones_. Oh and she likes her coffee with cream and sugar."

Kurt just looked at her, mystified. "Okay, setting aside the fact that she may or may not have a criminal record, do you think it's wise to be spending time with somebody who sleeps around?"

"I've slept around and I'm an okay person," Brittany mumbled, hating how a self-conscious note leeched into her words.

Kurt's features softened. "I know, Britt. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way; I only meant that you're on your quest for a stable relationship and it's just that this woman might sidetrack you from that."

"Oh you don't have to worry about that," said Brittany brightly. "She's very professional about her work and she has said that she doesn't sleep with neighbors because a decent living space is difficult to find."

Kurt still looked dubious but he let it go. "So everything's going smoothly for Hailey's wedding?"

"Yeah. The final fitting's this Saturday." Brittany sighed. "She's been sending me these random texts about how excited she is and how much she loves Wes and how they're both so lucky they found their way back to each other again after all these years. And it's not that I'm not happy for her. I am, it's just that… it really gets me wondering, you know? If I'd have that, too. If two people in the family will be able to make that second chance thing work for them."

"Oh Britt. Come here," Kurt said, patting the space beside him. Brittany walked over and sat herself. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure you'll find that person. I've thought about it and, well, Madame Tibideaux has never been wrong with her readings, so I'm sure that soon you'll be with somebody who'll love you and adore you as you are." He gave her a squeeze.

"Thanks, Kurt."

**###**

"Okay, so let's review the list: Brody, Cooper, Bryan and Aphasia are out for—reasons; David's in Mexico, Hank doesn't remember you; Carl and Artie are married, Holly's somewhere in the Amazon, Cassandra's an alcoholic and Matt has a family. Or two." Santana ticked off the names from the list on her clipboard. "And then there's Joe who has gone to Tibet for spiritual enlightenment. What's the story behind this guy anyway?"

"Well, I thought Joe was a girl for the longest time 'cause he had these long locks and a really pretty face. I only found out when we were about to have sex."

Santana opened her mouth to say something but seemed to have changed her mind midway. She asked instead, "Is that why you two broke up?"

"Oh, no. I was surprised but it didn't really make that much of a difference to me. We broke up because he felt that being with me made him surrender to the pleasures of the flesh or something."

Santana let out a low whistle. "Wow, you must be really good."

"Yeah, I am," said Brittany matter-of-factly. She leaned closer to Santana to look at the notes and photos on the clipboard. "Wow, he shaved his head! I wonder what he did with his hair."

Santana stiffened at the close proximity, a blush tinting her cheeks, which Brittany failed to notice. She coughed awkwardly and tried to distance herself a little. "So I've got some good news for you."

"You found Mike?" Brittany asked, eyes wide in anticipation.

"Uh, well, yes and no. Mike Chang is currently in Guangzhou, visiting his ailing grandmother. I'm not sure when he's coming back."

"Oh." Brittany's shoulders slumped.

Santana studied her carefully. She hesitated for a moment before asking, "What's the story behind you and him?"

"Me and Mike?" Brittany tilted her head to the side. "Well, we grew up in the same neighborhood, and he had always been this wonderful boy, you know? Sweet and kind, he never made fun of me, even when I was getting the order of the alphabet and numbers all wrong." Her eyes glazed over with recollection. "He was at the top of the class and I—well, I wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the hardware store, but we bonded during our dancing classes. He and I were always partnered together since we were the best in our group. Back then, I always thought that I was gonna marry him, you know?" She laughed, embarrassed.

Santana was silent for a while. When she spoke, her voice was small. "You still want to marry him?"

Brittany shrugged, "If he turns out to be my soulmate."

Santana let out a relieved sigh, which she immediately tried to cover up with a cough. She didn't say anything for a few moments. Then she took a deep breath and said in a bright, cheery voice, "Anyway, I found number eight! Or, rather, she found you. She contacted you through your Facebook account and—"

"Wait, I don't have Facebook."

"Now you do. I set up your account and all. You know it surprises me that for someone who takes a lot of pictures of other people, you don't have too many of yourself."

"How'd you know that?"

Santana ducked her head guiltily. "Uh, I took the liberty of looking at your camera. And your photo albums."

"In my computer?"

"Yeah…" She took a quick glance at Brittany. "Sorry; force of habit."

But Brittany just shrugged. "It's okay."

Santana looked at her carefully before echoing, "Okay." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, so I chatted her up and set a date with her for tomorrow at _La Petit Maison_."

"Wait— _La Petit Maison_? Isn't number eight the Mack?"

"Yup. Apparently, she now owns one of the largest truck companies in the country so she's all fancy and shit." Brittany couldn't help but notice the slight edge to Santana's voice. But before she could ask about it, Santana continued, "So I've set it at eight. That all right?"

"Yeah but I don't really have a fancy dress. I wore the only one I have to my sister's bachelorette party."

"Oh. Well, I could lend you one of mine. I've got a lot of dresses." Brittany raised her brow as she stepped back and took in Santana's appearance, jean overalls and a red-and-white striped sleeveless top. Santana blushed. "Shut up, I do. I usually wear them when I'm going to the club." She fiddled with the clasp of her overalls, tugging at them self-consciously.

Brittany just smiled. "I believe you. But I've got to say, I like seeing you wearing comfy clothes. They look good on you."

Santana eyed her dubiously. "They're not exactly flattering to my figure."

"They show you at your most comfortable and I think people look their best when they're at ease."

Santana's eyes softened and a small smile played on her lips. But this look was gone in an instant and she smirked. "I'm pretty much at ease wearing dresses as well… or even nothing at all."

Brittany rolled her eyes and looked away. But she couldn't stop the images of Santana in her barely there underwear from popping in her head. She felt the tips of her ears heat up and she coughed awkwardly. When she turned to face Santana again, she found her looking with a curious expression on her face but like before, this was gone again in instant.

"So anyway, tomorrow night at _La Maison_. Eight. You can drop by my place to pick a dress."

"Okay, thank you." Brittany felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. "Oh shoot, I've gotta run."

"But it's still your lunch break, right?"

"Yeah, but there's an update on Sue Sylvester and me and Sunshine are assigned to cover it," said Brittany apologetically.

"Oh, okay."

Brittany tucked her phone back into her pocket. "So I'll see you later?"

"Probably not. I promised Mercedes I'd swing by the club later and I have the feeling she's gonna make it the _Wheezy and Satan Night_ , which usually means singing 'til the ungodly hours."

" _Wheezy and Satan_?"

"Yeah, I call her Wheezy, she calls me Satan—our terms of endearment for each other."

Brittany bit her lip. "Oh is she—was she your, um, you know?"

Santana's eyes widened. "No! She's just my best friend. And she's straighter than a newly installed lamppost and happily married to Shane Tinsley."

"The football player?"

"The one and only."

"So she's not…?"

"No." Santana squinted. "I can't even imagine it."

"Okay. Cool. Great. Fantastic." Brittany pressed her lips together to keep herself from grinning. When Santana arched an eyebrow, Brittany just shrugged. "Okay, I gotta go."

"All right, you take care."

"You, too."

Brittany had already sprinted off but before she turned around the corner, she glanced back at Santana and found her still standing there, looking at her. Brittany didn't know why, but for some reason, it made her feel a bit better going to work.

**###**

"Are you sure your clothes are gonna fit me? We're… not exactly the same height."

"So? It will just look shorter on you, and show more leg. Like that has ever been a bad thing," said Santana, who was busy rifling through her closet in her bedroom.

"Okay, whatever you say." Brittany looked around her. Santana's apartment was a little bare of furniture, with boxes still lined up on the walls in the living room. She walked towards the room where Santana was and saw a queen-size bed with lots of pillows. "You sure had your priorities, huh?"

"What's that?" Santana asked, her head still buried in the closet.

"I said you sure had your priorities. I mean, your place is pretty bare but you made sure to have a huge bed." Brittany went over to the dresser, the only other furniture in the room. Cosmetics lined the top, along with a few music sheets.

"Well duh, I treat my ladies right." Santana turned to look at her with a smirk. "I'm not the type who does her lady-lovin' in a cheapass bed or couch or floor—well, actually, that depends." She walked over to the bed, with the dresses draped over her arm. "Here, why don't you try these on."

Brittany skipped over to Santana and took the dresses from her, and then carefully laid them down on the bed.

"You're gonna change here?"

"Huh? Well yeah; there's no problem, right?"

Santana cleared her throat but when she spoke, her voice still sounded rough. "No, there's no problem." Brittany, who was in the process of taking her shirt off, paused to look at Santana. But Santana had already turned around and walked back to the living room.

After trying out all the dresses (without much help from Santana), Brittany finally settled on a short black dress that only covered half of her thighs. She came out of the bedroom to get Santana's opinion but she didn't see her in the living room.

"Santana?"

"Kitchen."

She found her leaning against the counter, drinking water.

"So, what do you think?" Brittany asked, standing in front of her.

When Santana saw her, she sputtered, spilling water down her front. Brittany rushed towards her and grabbed a box of Kleenex from the counter and began dabbing at her shirt. Santana reddened and hastily pushed Brittany's hands away. "It's okay, it's okay."

Brittany took a step back. "You sure?"

"Yeah. You—you look amazing." Santana paused, taking in Brittany's appearance. Then with awe softening the edges to her voice, she said, "Beautiful."

Brittany blushed at the compliment. "Thank you."

Regaining her snark, Santana added, "Much too pretty for a date with a widow, if you ask me."

"The Mack's a widow?"

"Yeah, her husband died last year. Heart ailment. That's how she came by the truck company; it was her husband's first."

"Oh."

Santana stepped closer to Brittany and began fixing the puffed sleeves and the top of her dress, but being careful not to touch her skin. "Anyway, she seems eager to reconnect with you. You know, you really should've just set up a Facebook account ages ago. It would have made things easier for you, finding out about your exes and all."

"Yeah, maybe." Brittany was distracted by Santana's scent, her midnight pomegranate perfume melding with her own personal scent. She let her eyes flutter close, getting lost in the pleasant smell. "But then again, I'm glad I didn't 'cause I got to meet you."

Santana stopped. She looked at Brittany, who still had her eyes closed. "We'd still have met, regardless," she finally said in a quiet voice, their proximity demanding a softer volume.

Brittany hummed. "Yeah, but I wouldn't have enlisted your help and we wouldn't have gotten to know each other this well."

Santana swallowed. "Maybe. Maybe not." She took a deep breath before stepping back. "Okay, you're all set."

Brittany opened her eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Santana."

Santana looked away, embarrassed. "You're welcome, Brittany."

**###**

"So Brittany, how have you been? It sure has been a while, hasn't it?"

Brittany smiled nervously. "Yeah, I guess so. I heard you now own a truck company."

The Mack just shrugged her shoulders, flipping back her wavy dark brown hair. Brittany couldn't help but think of another woman with wavy dark brown hair. She immediately shook her head and tried to focus on the woman in front of her.

"Well, you know," the Mack was saying. "I was just making out with truckers at rest stops, same old same old, when I lucked out and this one guy happened to own this truck company and he proposed to me on the spot. And you know how the promise of millions can make one overlook the fact that a man is balding and nearing sixty. So I married him and he died not long afterwards. But enough about that." The Mack leaned over the table, jutting out her chest. Brittany's eyes dropped towards it but she quickly returned her gaze to the woman's eyes. "What do you say we bring the old times back?" The Mack trailed her eyes from Brittany's face to her neck and down to her cleavage. "Let's have some fun."

Brittany shifted uncomfortably. She grabbed the glass of water and took a huge gulp. She set it down carefully before saying, "No, I'm sorry. I have to go."


	5. Chapter 5

When Brittany came back to her apartment, she had half-expected Santana to be there. But when all she saw was darkness, she immediately made her way to unit 6A and knocked on the door. She was about to knock again when she realized that it was a Thursday and Santana performed at the club on Thursdays.

As she dropped her hand and turned to go back to her unit, the door opened and Santana appeared, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was a gray football sweatshirt and blue-and-white striped short shorts.

"You're back early." Santana frowned. "Did that bitch stand you up?"

"You wear glasses," Brittany blurted out.

Santana instinctively pushed the bridge of her glasses up. But she immediately dropped her hand when she realized what she was doing. "Uh, yeah." She cleared her throat. "So, um, what happened to your date?"

"She just wanted to hook up." Brittany shivered. "Can I come in?" Santana seemed taken aback and she shook her head. Brittany's face fell as she realized something. "Oh I'm so sorry, you have company? Shit, I'll just—"

"No!" Santana cut in. "No, there's no one—it's just—I mean, I'll just get my stuff and go to your place, yeah? I have some updates and the corkboard's there, so…"

Brittany nodded, relief flooding through her body. "Okay, sure. I'll just wait for you then."

Santana forced a smile and just watched as Brittany went back to her unit. When she took a glance behind her, she saw that Santana was still looking at her but when she realized she was caught, she ducked behind the door and closed it. For some reason, it made Brittany laugh to herself.

**###**

"So I've got news on one of the Puckermen," said Santana, who had settled on the couch with the laptop on her lap. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She squinted at the screen before continuing, "Noah Puckerman is in LA, cleaning pools and sleeping with married women." She grimaced. "He's even putting up ads for his 'services.'" She tapped something on her keyboard. "And I found Marley Rose. She's currently in Seattle, working at a radio station and starting up her singing career." She looked up from her laptop. "You willing to fly over there and sweep her off her feet?"

Brittany shook her head. "Seattle's too far, and besides I can't take time off work."

Santana looked at her before giving her a lopsided smile. "Honey, you have to be more passionate about this if you're serious about finding your soulmate."

"I know," Brittany mumbled. "But Seattle's too far away and even if things work out between us, I can't just up and leave this town. My friends are here, my family's here and—"

_You're here._

Brittany felt her heartbeat speed up. But before she could process the feeling, her stomach gave a loud rumble.

She blushed.

Santana frowned. "You didn't eat anything on your date?"

Brittany shifted from her position on the floor. "Uh, no. I left before the food arrived."

Santana clicked her tongue before setting her laptop aside. She stood up. "Okay, I'll whip you up something real quick."

"You don't have to—I still have a box of Lucky Charms left."

Santana just gave her a look. "No way are you eating cereal for dinner. Especially not when you're obviously famished."

And with that, Santana disappeared into the kitchen. Brittany rocked herself back and forth on the floor, not sure what to do. "You need any help?" she called out to Santana.

"Nope. You just sit there and relax or something."

Brittany fidgeted for a minute before Lord Tubbington made his appearance, padding over to her. When he reached her, he meowed and rubbed his head against her bare knee.

"Hey Tubbs. How's it goin'? Had better luck on your quest?" she asked, rubbing his chin and between his ears. He just let out a pleased purr before climbing over to her lap.

Brittany basked in this feeling of contentment of having her cat on her lap and the sound of Santana making dinner in the kitchen.

After twenty minutes or so, Santana reappeared in the doorway, "You want to eat here or at the table?"

"Table," Brittany said, looking up. She picked up Lord Tubbington in her arms and stood up. Santana watched them both for a moment before shaking her head and heading back to the dining area.

"That smells nice," Brittany hummed, following Santana.

"It's Spanish Rice and Prawn One-Pot. It's one of the fastest meals to cook that isn't just sandwiches."

Brittany crinkled her brows. "I didn't know I had rice or prawn."

"You don't. I hauled them over here the other day when I saw the dismal state of your pantry." Santana set the plates down on the table. "My mami sent me this stuff earlier this week, saying I need to take a piece of home with me, but I'm generally too lazy to cook for myself, so."

"But you aren't too lazy to cook for me?"

Santana blushed. She shrugged her shoulders. "I was just in a cooking mood."

Brittany just smiled as she settled on the chair. Lord Tubbington leapt from her lap and began wandering around the kitchen floor. Brittany let out a moan of appreciation as she took a bite of the food.

"Wow, this is really good."

Santana puffed out her chest. "It better be. Mami made me stay in the kitchen for hours trying to perfect these dishes. One of her attempts to smoke away the gay." She scoffed. "As if being good at cooking and being a lesbian are two incompatible concepts."

"Is she still trying to, um, smoke away the gay?"

"Nah, she eventually gave up. Now, though, she's been bugging me about settling down. Like, 'mija, gay marriage is now legal in our state; when are you going to marry a nice girl and give your poor mother turkey-baster grandchildren? You'd have no excuse, since there'd be two ovens.'" Santana threw her hands up. "I don't know which I preferred: her 'gay, gay go away' phase or this double-oven-lady-babies mania."

Brittany sniggered. "Well, why don't you want to settle down?"

Santana stiffened for a moment. A look crossed her face but it quickly disappeared and she smirked. "And what, give up all the fun?" Brittany was about to say something to that but Santana changed the topic. "So, we're down to five."

"Huh?"

"On your list," Santana clarified.

"Oh, right." Brittany shoveled more food in her mouth. For some reason, she didn't feel like talking about the list anymore.

"So Mike Chang, Jake Puckerman, Ryder Lynn, Hunter Clarington and Sam Evans." Santana paused. "I've got a question, though: why are there paw prints and hearts beside the names of the last two? Are they your special lovers or something?"

"That's two."

"What?" Santana blinked, confused.

"You asked two questions." Brittany smiled. She then glanced at Lord Tubbington who had laid himself down near the table. "Hunter and Sam both had cats," she explained. "And those cats were Lord Tubbington's exes, so I thought that if either of them turned out to be my soulmate, then it would be like a double whammy."

"Then why are they at numbers eleven and fourteen then, and not higher?"

"I…" Brittany paused, trying to find the right words. "Well, Hunter was kinda mean and self-absorbed, and Sam was nice but he kept forgetting stuff a lot and he seemed to have a dissociative personality disorder or something. Like if he was a TV show, he had problems with continuity in between seasons. Or episodes."

"So their virtues basically lie in their pussies?"

Brittany coughed out her food. She blushed. "Well, you could say that."

"Okay then, what's the story behind Lord Tubbington and the two pussies?"

Brittany felt her heartbeat speed up. Nobody had been interested in getting to know her cat, or even acknowledging him other than with the customary greeting 'so what will it take to get rid of that fat cat?' She grinned. "Well, Hunter had this really pretty white cat, Mr. Puss. I think Tubbs made the same mistake I did with Joe and thought that Mr. Puss was a lady-cat, but eventually, that didn't matter. I think Tubbs really loved Mr. Puss but when Hunter and I broke up, he took Mr. Puss with him and Tubbs has been sad and lonely ever since."

Brittany looked at her cat, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being talked about.

"And the other cat?" Santana prodded when Brittany didn't continue.

"Oh. Sam had this cat he rescued from the shelter shortly after we started dating. He gave her to me and said she was Lady Tubbington and that he wanted to start a cat family with me and stuff."

Santana was silent for a while. When she spoke, there was a tightness to her voice. "Well, that sounds romantic. What happened?"

"Lord Tubbington never really took to Lady Tubbington. Lady T kept on hissing and growling and generally seemed unhappy so I thought it wrong to try to force her to stay with us when she obviously didn't want to be."

When Santana didn't say anything, Brittany sneaked a glance at her and saw that she was frowning at her plate, like she was having a silent debate with it. After a while, she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and looked up at Brittany again. She smiled. "You're really smart, aren't you?"

Brittany paused and tried to detect if there was sarcasm in those words. She had learned the hard way that people could say things they didn't mean, say things that sounded nice but were actually mean. But Santana sounded so genuine, so sincere, and Brittany found herself blushing and smiling back.

"So what happened with Sam?"

"One day he just decided to move to Kentucky and become a stripper."

Santana raised her brows. "Wow, that sounds pretty random."

Brittany shrugged as she started eating again. "Episode continuity."

**###**

"Oh! I love this! I love this one," Santana squealed, waving a photo.

Brittany looked up from the pictures strewn all over the floor. She crawled towards Santana to look at the photo. "Oh yeah! I love that one, too." It was a picture of an elderly woman with dirt streaks on her face, and her white hair held back by a bandanna. She was sitting upright, her raggedy clothing draped over her almost immaculately. She almost seemed majestic. "That lady never had her picture taken before and when she saw me holding my camera, she beckoned me to come closer and take her picture. It was really adorable how she gussied herself up, throwing this scarf over her shoulder, and said, 'Come now, take my picture.'"

Santana giggled. "I can totally imagine that. She has the aura of a queen."

"Who knows, she may very well be a queen."

"Touché." Santana glanced around her. "Oh, here. This. I like this one, too."

Brittany shuffled closer and saw it was a picture of a man in a business suit, squatting before a little girl and listening to her attentively. "I love it when grown-ups treat the words of children as seriously as they would with other grown-ups, instead of just cooing at them and saying 'aw, that's cute.'"

Santana nodded in agreement. "I know. Children understand things way better than grown-ups anyway. I first came out to my six-year old cousin. She didn't even bat an eye. She just asked me where my girlfriend was and I had to tell her I didn't have one yet and she just shrugged her shoulders and said that when I do get one I should introduce them to each other."

Brittany grinned. "That's adorable. Oh wait!" She got up and went to her bedroom to get her camera. "I took some more pictures the other day." She plopped down beside Santana. She flicked through the photos on the screen until she found the one she was looking for. "Here."

"Oh." Santana took the camera and stared at the screen. A soft smile appeared on her face. "This—this is really beautiful," she breathed.

Brittany was too preoccupied with looking at Santana's curious expression that she was caught off-guard when she looked up. "Y-Yeah," she coughed, covering up her indiscretion. "They just seemed so happy and stuff."

"They do, don't they?" Santana looked at the screen again before handing the camera back to Brittany. "You take really great pictures, Britt."

"Thanks," said Brittany shyly. She took the camera and looked at the picture of an elderly couple snuggling on a park bench again.

"I mean it. Not everyone can capture all these raw and simple emotions so wonderfully. I think it takes a really amazing photographer to be able to capture all this seemingly mundane everyday stuff and make one feel that they're the most beautiful things on earth."

"I just take pictures," Brittany mumbled. "These beautiful things are there and I just happened to take a picture of them."

"Bullshit. Don't sell yourself short, Britt." Santana took Brittany's free hand and squeezed it. "You're amazing."

Brittany felt her breath hitch at the sight of those warm brown eyes looking at her so intently. It felt like she was being seen for the first time. She felt warmth spread from her chest and to her face. She ducked her head. "Thank you," she whispered.

Santana jolted and she immediately withdrew her hand. Brittany looked up, confused. Santana was wearing an embarrassed expression. "You're welcome," she mumbled.

Brittany just watched on as Santana began looking at the pictures strewn around her again. She watched as the expressions changed in Santana's face, from delight to surprise to sadness to just sheer awe.

The only thought that registered in Brittany's mind was 'Beautiful.'

She raised the camera to her face and snapped a picture of her.

Santana jerked at the sound of the shutter. She turned to Brittany, wide-eyed. Brittany lowered her camera and shrugged. She anticipated a question or a demand to see the photo or maybe even a flirty joke. But Santana just looked away again, this time making sure to have her face turned away from Brittany.

Brittany just smiled and resumed organizing the photos on the floor.

Later that night, as she was lying in her bed, she found herself staring at Santana's smiling face on her camera, carefully tracing the outline of her dimples.


	6. Chapter 6

"Brittany!"

Brittany looked up guiltily from her phone, her fingers poised to tap away a response to Santana's text. "Uh, yeah?"

Hailey frowned at her. "You know, I'd appreciate it if you'd actually pay attention to my dress."

"Why? Mom's here. Right, mom?" Brittany looked around. "Mom?"

Hailey rolled her eyes. "She wandered off an hour ago, looking at the dresses and lamenting that she didn't get to wear them on her wedding day."

"Sorry." Brittany stood up from where she was sitting and walked towards her sister. She ran her hand over the skirt, feeling the silk between her fingers. She fluffed it up a little, took a step back and surveyed her appearance. "I think it needs bustling."

Hailey twisted around to look at herself in the three-way mirrors. "Hm, I think you're right."

"Other than that, I think you look perfect."

Hailey chuckled. "Is that the truth, or are you just itching to get this over with?"

"Oh you wound me, dear sister. How could you think ill of me? Alas, my poor heart," Brittany beat her breast in an affected manner.

Hailey burst into giggles. "Oh Britt. Fine, I believe you. I mean, you've already had a lot of input in the previous fittings after all. It's bound to be perfect sooner or later."

Brittany beamed. "I'm the greatest."

"That you are," said Hailey, smiling back. She turned to look at herself in the mirrors one last time. "Okay, I better get out of this dress before I rip it. God knows that would be a tragedy." She shot a quick glance at Brittany, whose attention was now back to her phone. "Okay, who is that?"

"Who's what?" Brittany asked distractedly, still looking at her phone.

"The one who's been robbing me of your attention," Hailey huffed as the seamstress and her assistant carefully helped her out of her dress.

"Oh, it's just Santana."

"Who's Santana?" Hailey asked, buttoning up her gray shirt. She patted down her navy blue mini-skirt, checking her appearance at the mirror before turning around and plopping beside Brittany. When Brittany still didn't reply, she grabbed the phone and started skimming through the messages.

"Hey!"

"Santana… Lopez. I haven't heard of her before. Is she a new friend? New _girlfriend_?" Hailey asked, smirking. Brittany looked at her, shocked, which Hailey exploited and she jumped away from her, waving the phone above her head. "Britty and 'Tana sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a carriage," she sang, hopping around like a damn bunny.

Brittany felt her cheeks burn. "Hailey! Give me back my phone!"

"Nuh-uh!" Hailey looked at the phone again. "Ooh, she's pretty." Then she frowned. "Is talking about crustaceans the new form of flirting?"

Brittany managed to grab the phone from Hailey when she was momentarily distracted. "She's—she's not my girlfriend and we're not flirting. She's just my neighbor."

Hailey lifted an eyebrow. "Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"What is this? What's going on?" Mrs. Pierce asked, walking in with a frown. "Why are you girls shouting?"

"Britty has a girlfriend and she's trying to keep it a secret!"

"Hailey!" Brittany hissed, grabbing her sister by her elbow. "Aren't you supposed to be fussing over your wedding preparations instead of bugging me about my life?"

Hailey looked at her blankly. "I'm bored; I've had my fill of wedding preps for a lifetime, thank you very much." She smiled, this time less teasing and more sincere. "Besides, I've been worrying about you, you know? You've been all sad and mopey and today, you're happy and sunshine-y and stuff. So you can't blame me for wanting to find out about your secret lover."

"You have a secret lover, Brittany?" Mrs. Pierce asked, stepping closer. "Why in heaven's name would you keep it a secret? Is he or she a drug lord?"

Brittany rolled her eyes. "No, mom. She's a singer at the club downtown."

"So she _is_ your lover!" Hailey crowed.

Brittany blushed when she realized her faux-pas. "No! She's not!" She took a deep breath. "She's my neighbor who I've asked to help me track down my exes."

Both Mrs. Pierce and Hailey stared at her. "What?"

"Uh…" Brittany thought of backtracking.

"Tracking down your exes?"

"Brittany, are you pregnant?"

"Wait, but you and Aphasia broke up a month ago!"

"Aphasia got you pregnant?!"

"Or is this like a really delayed pregnancy? Like the fetus is in a state of suspended animation? I think I watched a documentary once on _Discovery Ch_ —"

"I'm not pregnant!" Brittany covered her face in mortification. Before any of them could come up with another wild theory, she continued, "I'm tracking down my exes to see if one of them is my Wes Brody."

"You're in love with Wes?!" Mrs. Pierce exclaimed.

"No! No, of course not. I mean, somebody just for me, you know? Somebody to spend the rest of my life with."

"Oh…" Mrs. Pierce and Hailey said at the same time.

"Then why are you tracking down your exes instead of meeting new people?"

"Madame Tibideaux told me I'd find my soulmate if I take a second look at all the people I've dated. And there was this _Marie Claire_ article, too." Brittany paused. "And besides, you found your true love when you gave Wes a second chance."

"Oh Britt." Hailey stepped towards her and gave her a hug. "I don't know anything about the first two, but just because I found my soulmate through second chances, it doesn't mean you have to do so, too. Who knows, Britt? The person you're meant to be with could be someone you've yet to take a chance on."

"Thanks, Hay," Brittany mumbled, hugging her back.

When they pulled apart, they saw their mother sniffling. "Oh my girls, all grown-up now." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "Now come on, let's have lunch." She led the way out of the shop. Hailey and Brittany trailed a few steps behind her.

"So if Santana's only helping you track down your exes, why were you two talking about crustaceans?"

"She's—she's also my friend, and we talk about… stuff."

"Like your favorite shrimp dish?"

Brittany blushed. Hailey gave her a knowing look.

**###**

They were snuggled up on the couch, watching _Pitch Perfect,_ with the rain pouring outside. Two mugs of hot chocolate lay by the coffee table. Lord Tubbington was stretched out at the foot of the couch, purring.

_This is nice,_ Brittany thought, resting her head against Santana's, which in turn was resting on Brittany's shoulder.

Times like these, especially after Hailey's teasing, made it difficult for Brittany to ascertain what type of relationship she and Santana really had. The safest label would be friends, because even though Brittany enlisted Santana's help to track down her exes, it could also be chalked up as a friend asking for a favor from another friend—never mind that Santana was going at it with a passion that outmatches those who were actually paid to do so.

But, Brittany was also friends with Kurt and it never felt like this, even after twelve years of friendship. It never felt this warm and comfortable, like they were each other's softened shoes. It never felt like discovering new things about each other was something they wanted to do for the rest of their lives.

And to think that it has only been a little more than a week.

Santana chuckled at something on the movie, sending vibrations down Brittany's neck and throughout her body. Brittany became acutely aware of the warmth of Santana's cheek against her shoulder.

Everything just felt so right that Brittany subconsciously turned her face until she was pressing her lips against the crown of Santana's head.

It took only a second before the move registered on them both.

And another second for Santana to jerk back.

An apology was at the tip of Brittany's tongue but Santana cut her off. "I—I forgot to tell you I've got some updates."

"What?" Brittany blinked, thrown off.

"I've uncovered some info on your pussy boys," she said with forced giddiness. "So which one do you want to hear first: Hunter or Sam?"

Brittany just continued looking at her. Santana took out her phone and began flicking over her notes. "Hunter Clarington's currently serving jail time for drug trafficking. And Samuel Evans—who I will henceforth refer to as Trouty Mouth for those guppy lips—has been admitted to a rehab center."

That distracted Brittany from wondering why Santana was suddenly acting weird. "What, why?"

"Apparently he's suffering from a compulsive behavior, he's a—wait for it—serial marriage proposer, a.k.a. a proposal-holic. Never knew that such a thing existed." She paused. "He didn't propose to you, did he?" she asked, a little sharply.

"Maybe." Brittany squirmed. "Doesn't matter; we were just fooling around and it didn't mean anything."

Santana just continued looking at her carefully. "Well, as long as you're not still married or something." Brittany caught the relieved note in her voice, but Santana quickly followed her words up with, "'Cause I'm definitely not going to aid in any torrid affairs and potential bigamy; I'm not qualified for that shit." She punctuated her sentence with an awkward laugh that didn't do much to dispel the weirdness in the room.

Brittany didn't know why she felt the need to reassure Santana but she did. "We're not married. I'm not married to anyone. I haven't married anyone for real."

Santana was quiet for a moment. "Yeah?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah."

Santana's eyes softened and Brittany thought that that was the end of the updates when the expression in Santana's eyes changed again. She flicked her eyes over her phone and bit her lip. "I've also found Mi—" she stopped short before rushing out to say, "Ryder Lynn." She flicked her gaze from the floor to Brittany's face and then back to the floor again. She cleared her throat and repeated, "I've found Ryder Lynn. He'll be in town this Wednesday to promote the activities of this foundation for children with dyslexia." She twisted her hands awkwardly. "I have the details on my laptop; I could go get it now," she said, getting up.

But Brittany grabbed her wrist. "No, that—that can wait. Please stay."

Santana's eyes went wide behind her glasses. She gulped and Brittany thought that she would shake her head and refuse but she didn't. Instead she gave her a nervous smile and settled back again, putting her feet on the couch.

"Okay," she said, but she made sure to lean against the arm, hugging her knees, and putting as much distance as she can from Brittany.

Brittany felt her heart fall at that. She shifted in her seat until she was mirroring Santana's position. She turned her attention back to the movie to ignore the sudden coldness.

But a few minutes later, when she felt Santana's toes inadvertently touch hers, she smiled and she wiggled her toes against hers.

Santana laughed, breaking the tension, and for the rest of the movie, they were having a tickle-toe war.

**###**

Brittany looked at her reflection in the mirror. She had borrowed yet another dress from Santana, this time a dark blue one that accentuated her curves. She looked good, she knew, but she couldn't help but wonder what she was doing, why she was going out in the first place.

She understood that she was going through the list and thus fulfilling the requirements that Madame Tibideaux had mentioned in her reading for her to find her soulmate.

But at the same time, she found that she didn't care as much anymore.

Like, what did it matter if her potential-soulmate was going to this dinner party when she could just spend the night with Santana looking over photographs again or listen to music or just simply lounge around?

"You look good enough to eat," Santana commented, realizing a little too late what her choice of words implied. She blushed furiously. "I mean, um—"

Brittany laughed. "It's all right, Santana. I get it." She took one last look at her reflection and said, "Besides, I really _do_ look good enough to eat."

It took a minute before Santana could look at her in the face again. She coughed. "Well, just be sure to not make a mess in my dress," she said, regaining some of her bravado, but still somehow sounding half-hearted.

Brittany didn't know how to respond to that seemingly token comment.

Santana stepped closer and fixed her hair, making some of it fall over her shoulder. She leaned back a little to look at her properly before smiling. "Beautiful."

Brittany smiled back. "Thank you."

Santana's smile wavered for a moment. "Text me how it goes?" At Brittany's questioning look, she continued with forced nonchalance. "I mean, if he turns out to be a jerk or something and you need an out or somebody to kick his ass," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Brittany smiled again and before she could really think about it, she leaned over and kissed Santana on the cheek. "Okay, I will."

When she left, Santana was still standing by the mirror, barely breathing.

**###**

Despite the fact that over ten years have gone by, Brittany was pleased to find that Ryder Lynn was still the same boy she knew. Even in his three-piece suit, he still looked at everything around him with that wide-eyed delight. When he caught sight of her, his whole face lit up.

"Brittany Pierce!" he grinned, walking towards her. "Fancy meeting you here!"

Brittany met him with a hug. "It's nice to see you again, Ryder."

He took a step back to look at her. "It looks like you haven't aged a day since the last time I saw you."

"I could say the same to you."

"Oh, here," he said, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and offering one to her.

"Thank you."

"Are you here with somebody or—?"

"No, I just came here by myself." Brittany took a sip from her glass. Well, no use beating around the bush. Besides, the quicker she got this over with, the sooner she could go back to Santana. "I actually came here to see you." Ryder tilted his head to the side, prompting her to continue. "I just wanted to see how you are—and if you're up for rekindling what we had before."

"Oh!" Ryder's face fell. He pressed his lips together. Then he gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm—well, I've been going out with Jake for a while now. We're going to make it official next week, at the launch of his album."

Brittany blinked.

Oh. _Oh_.

"Oh!" A huge smile broke out on her face. "Wow, that's—that's really amazing! I'm so happy for you guys."

"Thanks," said Ryder, blushing. "He really makes me happy, you know?" A huge goofy grin adorned his face. "He's just been so supportive and understanding, and I really think he's the one."

"Well if he makes you feel this way, then he must be."

"Yeah," he breathed, his eyes getting that dreamy look. Then he snapped out of his haze. "Oh wait—Ms. Rhodes is here. Do you mind if I—?"

"No, go ahead." Brittany watched as Ryder weaved his way through the crowd and towards the famous April Rhodes, who had recently made it on to the _Forbes List_. She was still smiling when she took out her phone and tapped a message to Santana.

She understood that she was happy for Ryder and Jake, but she couldn't pinpoint why she also felt relieved. But this thought was quickly brushed away as she hailed a cab.

She should find it strange that she was looking forward more to going back to Santana than she did earlier about going to the party, but she didn't.

**###**

"I knew it!" Brittany pumped her fist in the air. "I knew there was something behind those tension-filled duets and those intense glances they kept throwing at each other!"

Santana laughed. "It's really amazing how you seem so happy when your exes find their significant others. People are usually bitter when that happens."

Brittany cocked her head to the side. "Why would they be? I'm just happy that people I've been with are happy."

"Even if it's not with you?"

Brittany crinkled her brows in confusion. "I'm not the only source of happiness in this world."

"I find that hard to believe," Santana muttered to herself. Brittany looked at her curiously but Santana shouted, "We should celebrate for Jake and Ryder's happiness!"

"Amen!"

"Let's drink and be merry! I'll provide the drinks, you provide the merriment!"

Brittany laughed, thinking how ridiculous it was that Santana seemed to be genuinely happy about Jake and Ryder, considering she had never even met them. But this thought was quickly shoved aside when Santana came back from her apartment, carrying what looked like a month's supply of beer.

"Beer?"

"Hard drinks and cocktails are what you drink at a bar." Santana set down the cases by the counter, putting them in the fridge one by one. "Beer is what you drink at home." She reappeared in the living room, tossing Brittany a can. "Now, how do you propose to celebrate?"

"Board games!"

**###**

Brittany couldn't tell what time it was anymore or what game they were even playing. She blinked blearily and tried to focus her eyes on Santana, who was crouched over the Monopoly board.

"What are you doing?" she slurred.

Santana looked up, blinking owlishly. "Claiming my properties. I owns this joint!" she yelled, pumping her fist. She straightened up but she lost her balance and landed on her back.

"You okay?" Brittany asked, crawling over to her. Santana started shaking and when Brittany was close enough, she saw that she was laughing. "What's so funny?"

"I… I don't know," Santana managed to gasp out. Brittany couldn't stop her eyes from raking over her appearance, the way her dark wavy hair spilled around her like a halo, her brown eyes sparkling behind her glasses and her beautiful lips curved into a wide smile.

Without even thinking about it, Brittany laid herself beside her. She began toying with strands of dark brown hair, twirling them around her finger. Santana was oblivious to it, still looking at the ceiling and randomly bursting into giggles.

Brittany just continued looking at her, admiring the contours of her face, the perfect shape of her nose, the apple of her cheek and her beautiful, beautiful mouth. She felt something warm and fluttery in her chest.

"Santana, don't you ever want to settle down?"

Santana stopped giggling. Then she was silent for a long while that Brittany thought that she had passed out. But just as she was about to get up to grab her some blankets, she spoke up, her words slurring together. "I do, of course I do, but it's kinda like wanting to—to go see the Niagara Falls, or to be a famous singer adored by the public, or—or go to the moon, you know?"

Brittany swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's a nice dream but I ain't gon-gonna have it. I'd rather be damned than to risk my hurt—heart that way again." Santana inhaled sharply. "I've had enough share of girls… who would choose somebody else, choose a stupid _boy_ over me in the end. I have enough of that shit. They—they kept on telling me that girls just wanna have fun…" she chuckled mirthlessly. "Then I'll give them fun and I'll take my share of it, too. Turns out it's easier and I love it better this way."

Brittany didn't know why but she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. She had never heard Santana, or anybody else she knew, speak this way, so full of hurt and resignation. "But what if—somebody wants to spend the rest of their life with you?" she whispered. "What then?"

"Tough luck for that poor bitch," said Santana meanly before bursting into laughter.

Brittany felt her heart turn into lead. She jerked back from Santana, like she was burned. She shook her head and was about to get up to go lock herself in her room and forget about this woman—at least, for the night—that she was starting to have feelings for when Santana spoke up again, this time sounding surprisingly sober. "There's nobody—nobody like that. Every girl would rather have that cookie-cutter life with a husband and a dog and a white-picket fence, than spend their life with me," said Santana, a wry smile on her lips.

"You're wrong."

"Brittany…" Santana said breathlessly as Brittany raised herself up and slowly climbed over Santana's body until she was crouching over her.

"You're wrong," Brittany repeated, before leaning closer and pressing her lips against Santana's.

**###**

"Y-Your list," Santana stuttered against her lips.

"Fuck the list," Brittany growled, nipping Santana's bottom lip before kissing her again furiously, letting her tongue into Santana's mouth. Santana moaned back in response.

Brittany pulled back a little, pressing her forehead against Santana's. She couldn't stop staring at those dark brown eyes that seemed so deep and endless, she felt like she could just fall into them. When Santana fluttered her eyes closed, Brittany let out a whine of protest.

"Kiss me," Santana mumbled, her hand on the back of Brittany's neck, pulling her closer. Brittany acquiesced, first brushing her lips gently against Santana's, before pressing their mouths together fully, almost forcefully. She could feel Santana tensing underneath her, the hand on her neck tightening into a fist and the other one finding her hip and squeezing just a little bit.

Brittany knew what all this meant, as she was feeling the same tightness in her own body. She sat up, straddling Santana's waist, and pulled her shirt over her head. Santana just kept on looking at her with those wide dark eyes, like she found it physically impossible to look anywhere else. Brittany smirked as she leaned closer but stopped when she saw that Santana's eyes were brimming with tears behind her glasses.

"Santana, what's wrong?" Brittany asked, gently removing her glasses. She carefully laid them aside before turning back to Santana, who had rubbed her tears away with the back of her hands.

"S-Sorry… sometimes, I get like this when I'm drunk." Brittany looked at her, unsure. Santana smiled despite the tears. "It's true."

After a moment, Brittany smiled back. "Okay." She was about to lean in again but she hesitated. "Um, do you want to stop?"

Santana gave her a coy smile, tugging her closer. "Who said anything about stopping?"

"Touché," Brittany mumbled, but the word was lost inside Santana's mouth.


	7. Chapter 7

Brittany woke up the next morning in her bed, with her head feeling like it was being jackhammered. She was about to let out a string of swear words when she opened her eyes and saw Santana sleeping beside her. The swear words immediately died in her mouth.

She felt her breath catch as she took in the serenity of Santana's face, the way her mouth was slightly open. She felt her heart flutter at the sight and she thought how wonderful it would be to wake up to this every morning.

But reality made its rude reappearance via the splitting headache, making Brittany groan. She immediately shut her mouth and glanced at Santana to see if she woke her.

Santana's eyes fluttered open and she smiled sleepily. "G'morning."

"Good morning," Brittany croaked back, her throat so dry and parched.

Santana chuckled. "I'll go get you water and some Tylenol." She got up from the bed and padded towards the kitchen.

Brittany let her eyes fall on the sway of her ass before realizing that Santana was only in her tank top and underwear. She looked at herself and found that she was only wearing her blue panties herself. She flushed crimson as the memories of last night came back to her.

When Santana came back with a glass of water and Tylenol, Brittany instinctively covered herself up with a blanket. She gulped. "Did we—?"

Santana stiffened. Brittany noticed the way her grip on the glass tightened and her expression became more guarded. She licked her lips and hastily spoke despite the dryness of her throat, "It's not that I regret it if we had, I-I still meant what I said. I want you; I really, really do." She felt her face heat up as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Santana studied her face carefully for a moment before she relaxed. She laid down the glass and the medicine on the bedside table. "No, we didn't." She smiled. "We were drunk and I was weepy. Here, drink up."

Brittany obediently complied. She felt the throb in her head ease up a little. She downed the rest of the water. Santana sat herself on the bed beside her. Brittany smirked, "And here I was, thinking you wanted to get all up on this," she said, gesturing to her front.

Santana quirked an eyebrow. "Oh honey, I do. And I know the feeling's mutual. But I don't want our first time to be something we'd be too drunk to remember." Santana's features softened. "We're both better than that."

Brittany felt her heartbeat speed up and her face heating up in a blush.

"But, you know, if you really want to give it a go right now …" Santana waggled her eyebrows.

"Shut up," said Brittany, throwing her pillow at her.

Santana caught it and hugged it to her chest. She was wearing her goofy grin. "So, listen, I was thinking maybe you'd like to drop by the _Troubletones_ later. I'll be performing tonight and, I don't know," she shrugged self-consciously. "Maybe you'd like to hear me sing and stuff."

Brittany giggled. "Of course. I'd love to hear you sing and stuff."

Santana blushed. "Whatever." Her eyes flicked to Brittany's and then to the blanket she had unconsciously dropped, revealing her bare chest. She coughed. "I guess I should scoot, since you still have work." Brittany pouted. Santana rolled her eyes before leaning in to kiss the pout away. "You know if I stay you wouldn't be able to go to work at all." Another kiss. "Especially since we didn't actually get to have sex last night." Another kiss. "Though now thinking about it, staying in doesn't sound like a bad idea." She grinned as Brittany put her hands on the sides of her face to keep her close.

They stayed like that kissing when Brittany's phone vibrated on the bedside table. They tried to ignore it but the vibrating persisted.

Brittany pulled back with a groan. "That could only be Sunshine. God I hate my job."

Santana laughed before giving her lips one last peck. "Who knows, you might not have to do it for a lot longer."

Brittany looked at her curiously but the message on her phone caught her attention. "Sunshine needs me for an exclusive scoop with Sue Sylvester."

"You better get dressed then." Santana got up. "I already started your coffeemaker."

"Won't you stay at least until I leave?"

"Honey, if I stay I won't be able to let you leave," Santana smiled. "I'll see you later?"

Brittany pouted again, hoping to entice Santana for another kiss. But Santana just laughed and shook her head. She gave her a look that plainly said 'Nice try _.'_

"Fine," Brittany said grumpily. "See you later."

Santana hesitated for a moment but eventually gave up. She gave her one last kiss before bounding out of the room. Brittany laughed at her ridiculousness, thinking how she would love to start every day like this.

**###**

The day went by both faster and slower than Brittany thought possible. Faster, in that she found herself more motivated and in a better mood overall, that it wasn't nearly as boring or taxing looking over the photographs of the people they were going to feature in the paper. Even Sunshine commented on her good mood, to which Brittany just smiled and hummed in response.

Slower in the sense that she couldn't wait for the clock to strike six so that she could go home and get ready, despite the fact that Santana texted her that she'd be at the club at eight.

So when it was finally 6pm, Brittany was ready to call it a day. But just as she was exiting the building, she ran into Kurt, who seemed to have been waiting for her. He was holding a Starbucks coffee in one hand.

"Kurt! What are you doing here?"

Kurt just shrugged. "Well, I haven't seen you all week and besides," he grinned, "I've got some news for you."

"Um, is this about Rachel and the DA?" Brittany shifted her weight between her feet, eager to get going. "'Cause whatever it is, I totally support them."

"No," said Kurt huffily. "It's not about them; I wouldn't be waiting here for you to talk about them."

"You came to my apartment last week to talk about them," she pointed out.

"Partly!" he defended himself. "I asked about you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. Listen, can we talk and walk? I've gotta head home to change."

Kurt's face brightened. "You have a date?"

"Yeah, well, sort of," Brittany said, blushing. She started walking.

Kurt matched her strides. "Oh, but of course. Silly me." He rolled his eyes at himself. "You've hired your neighbor to track down your exes so it's only logical you would have known about it by now."

"Know what?"

"Mike Chang's in town."

Brittany stopped. She turned around to look at Kurt, confused. "He is?"

Kurt looked back at her with a confused expression. "You mean you didn't know? He's been in town since Tuesday. I just found out earlier when Blaine told me Mike was helping in the choreography of their new show. But surely your neighbor would've known earlier since it's her job to—" He stopped when realization sank in. "Oh."

Brittany didn't realize she had stopped breathing until Kurt touched her shoulder.

"Brittany, breathe."

She looked at him. "I—" She walked a few steps before leaning against the building. She squeezed her eyes shut as she processed this information. It shouldn't matter anymore that Mike was here. It shouldn't, not when Santana—

Santana. Santana knew Mike was here. She had to know. But then why didn't she tell her?

"Britt?"

"I've got to go home."

**###**

Brittany had curled herself up in her bed, the entire apartment in total darkness. She didn't know what time it was, or how many hours have passed since Kurt accompanied her home. He offered to stay with her but she told him she needed some space to think.

She replayed the details in her head. Mike Chang was in town and Santana knew but didn't tell her. But maybe she was planning to tell her? Like if last night didn't end up with them making out on the floor, maybe she would have told her.

That's right. Santana would've told her.

She sat up on her bed and blindly reached for her phone. There were a couple of missed calls from Santana and when she checked the time, she was surprised to see that it was already eleven.

She wondered if she should wait up for Santana or wait to talk to her in the morning. She was still contemplating about it when she heard a knock on her door, followed by keys turning in the lock. She heard the door creak open and then shut and footsteps enter the living room.

"Britt?"

Despite herself, Brittany felt her heart warm at the sound of her voice. She saw the light flickering on in the living room, hurting her eyes. She squeezed them shut before cracking one eye open, and then the other until they got used to the brightness.

"Britt?" Brittany blinked and saw Santana standing by the doorway, looking at her with worried eyes. "Are you all right?"

When she didn't answer, Santana walked over to her bed. "You didn't come and you didn't answer your phone so I thought you were sick or—" She sat down before Brittany. "I brought some chicken noodle soup. It's at the kitchen. I'll heat it up, if you want."

She rose to go but Brittany caught her wrist. She swallowed before asking in a hushed voice, "Have you heard about Mike?"

"No," came Santana's quick response. Too quick.

Brittany narrowed her eyes. "Oh."

"What does it matter?" Santana asked, laughing nervously.

"Kurt told me he's here. He's been here since Tuesday."

More nervous laughter. "Is that so?"

"Santana…"

Santana was silent. After a long tense moment, she confessed, "I knew."

Brittany felt her heart crumple at the admission. "Why did you lie to me?" she whispered.

Santana dropped her eyes. "I don't know…" She swallowed. "Does it matter?" she asked, her voice sounding so small.

Brittany shook her head. "Of course it matters. Honesty matters." She took a deep breath and asked a different question. "Why didn't you tell me about Mike?"

Santana looked at her beseechingly. "Brittany…"

"No, tell me."

"You were already going to the dinner party to see Ryder so I…"

A thought crossed Brittany's mind. She narrowed her eyes. "Did you know about Ryder and Jake?"

Santana didn't speak for a while. Then she whispered, "I… came across rumors." Then she amended, "I knew."

"So you sent me to this dinner party to meet with Ryder even though you suspected— _knew_ he's with Jake, and you kept me in the dark about Mike being here." Brittany laughed in disbelief. "What are you playing at, Santana?" She shook her head. "Was last night part of a ruse too?"

"Brittany, I—"

"No, I don't want to hear it." A pause. "Please leave."

Santana stood still for a moment and Brittany thought that she would refuse. She took out the keys from the pocket of her leather jacket and took one out and placed it on the bedside table. Brittany saw it was the key to her apartment. Santana silently drew back. When she was at the doorway, she whispered "I'm sorry" before turning around and leaving the room, leaving the apartment.

**###**

Brittany had half-expected things to be awkward at the building, that she and Santana would bump into each other or maybe catch sight of each other and that they wouldn't know what to do. But strangely enough, Brittany didn't see her at all. It almost seemed like Santana was going out of her way to avoid her.

Brittany didn't know what exactly she was feeling. She was angry, yes, angry that Santana lied to her like that. But she was also hurt and confused, since Santana had seemed so sincere with her affections. But what could Brittany believe in now, now that it felt like Santana had manipulated the events of the past few days?

She would have sunk into this melting pot of emotions had Kurt not intervened and, with Blaine's help, set her up on a date with Mike Chang.

Being with Mike was like a throwback to the old days. Mike still had that kind smile and the shy demeanor, which magically disappeared whenever he danced. It was easy to go back to their old groove, the childhood friends-slash-dance-buddies.

"I'm glad to hear that you're now dancing professionally," Brittany said, smiling over her cup of hot chocolate.

"Yeah," Mike laughed shyly. "It took some convincing, but I eventually showed my father that this is what I really wanted to do, that this isn't just a hobby for me."

"So you didn't finish your studies at Stanford?"

"No, I did. I got my degree and took the Bar and practiced for a few years. But then I just realized one day that I didn't want to live my life like this, pushing aside the one thing I really loved doing in order to conform to my father's wishes. So I quit the firm and started taking up lessons again."

Brittany's eyes widened. "Wow. So how did your parents react to that?"

"Mom was worried at first but then she supported my decision. It was dad who took a while to come around." Mike laughed. "How about you? I heard you're a photojournalist now."

"Yeah, I am. It's not exactly my dream job," she said, shrugging, "but I get to do what I like so I'm good."

"Well, what's your dream job?"

"It's well…" Brittany laughed. "I don't know what to call it, but I like taking pictures of ordinary people doing ordinary things."

Mike furrowed his brows as he processed what she said. "Like, taking a picture of the lady over there?" he asked, pointing at a woman outside who was carrying a grocery bag.

Brittany bit her lip. "Yeah, well, something like that." She pulled out one of her flipbooks from her bag and handed it to Mike. "Here, I brought a sample."

Mike took them and began flipping through the photographs. "These are good, Britt," he said, looking up with a smile.

Brittany smiled back but for a moment, she was struck by how his words didn't warm her chest like Santana's did. She shook her head to get rid of the thought of the woman off her mind.

They talked a bit more about dancing before they decided to call it a night. Mike walked her up to her apartment building and when they were standing at the door, he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

Brittany didn't feel any tingles and she just smiled politely back.

"I had a really good time tonight. Maybe we can do this again soon?" asked Mike, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Brittany willed herself to feel something, to _at least_ want to give this another shot.

But she felt nothing. And she couldn't lie. She just stepped forward to hug him as she mumbled against his shoulder, "No, I don't think so."

**###**

"Is there any reason you're just staring at your coffee cup, Brittany?"

Brittany looked up and saw Rachel Berry hovering over her table with that concerned look on her face. "I sincerely hope you're not about to sing a song about coffee cups."

"Sadly, I do not have a song in my repertoire that touches upon coffee cups; I do, however, know a song about coffee shops and coffee boys. It's a song sung by Ms. Kristen Chenoweth, who played Glinda the Good in the seminal musical adaptation of a revisionist work of fiction of the same name, _Wicked_. It's entitled _Taylor, the Latte Boy_." She took a deep breath before opening her mouth to sing. " _There's a_ —"

"Rachel, please shut up."

"Oh," said Rachel, suddenly stopping. "Okay."

Brittany blinked in surprise. "You stop singing just like that?"

Rachel shrugged. "All you had to do was ask."

Brittany looked at her dubiously. "I clearly remember eight different instances of me and Kurt asking you to stop and you still sang on."

"Really? Oh well then it must be because of Quinn," she mumbled, her cheeks turning pink.

"DA Quinn Fabray?" Brittany paused. "Ooh, that sounds nice. DA Quinn Fabray."

"It does, doesn't it?" said Rachel dreamily.

Brittany smiled. "You're smitten."

Rachel blushed. "When Madame Tibideaux told me that I have to focus fully on my singing career to find happiness, I thought she just meant that I just have to practice more, to do my vocal exercises regularly at the park—which, I regret to say I hadn't been able to do when I was worrying over Finn—to get the role of Eliza Doolittle and win a Tony. But it turned out it wasn't that." At Brittany's curious look, she continued, "I was at the park one day, and this woman was sitting on the bench, reading. When I was midway through my exercise, she looked up and began humming. And before I knew it, we were singing a duet together, though given that her voice doesn't have the rich fullness of mine, we nevertheless made a good pair."

"This woman was… Quinn?"

Rachel nodded. "I didn't realize until a few days after we had started going out that it was the happiest I've been in a long while. And that, this must be what Madame Tibideaux meant." She paused to smile. Then she turned to look at Brittany. "Kurt told me that you've been tracking down your exes."

"Were," Brittany corrected, laughing hollowly. "Madame Tibideaux was wrong in my case."

"How so?"

"She told me I'd find my soulmate if I took another look at those who had been my lovers." She smiled sadly as she thought of the previous week and of… Santana. She shook her head. "I did, and none of them were it."

Rachel furrowed her brows as she took her words in. "Were those her exact words? That you'd find your soulmate if you took another look at your ex-lovers?"

"More or less."

"She didn't say that your soulmate _was_ one of your ex-lovers?"

"What are you getting at, Rachel?"

"I'm just saying that maybe tracking down your exes was just a means to find your soulmate, not that one of them was necessarily it. Like, did you meet somebody while you were tracking them down?"

"I—" Realization dawned on her. "I did."

Rachel nodded sagely. "And?"

Brittany shook her head. "It doesn't matter. She… she wasn't what I thought she was."

"What happened?"

Brittany hesitated before recounting the events of the past two weeks to her. When she was done, Rachel pursed her lips as she mulled things over. Brittany watched her carefully, as she was struck by the realization that Rachel could actually be a pretty good friend. When she wasn't too busy belting out show tunes.

Finally, Rachel spoke. "Why don't you give her a chance to explain? If there's one thing I've learned from having my beautiful voice curtailed is that one can learn many things by listening."

"What's there to explain? She lied."

"Why do you think she did that?"

Brittany shrugged, frustrated. "I don't know. She wanted to get into my pants? I don't know."

"But she never made any advances to you before?"

Brittany squirmed uncomfortably. "She made jokes."

"Did she follow through with them?"

"No, they were just… playful banter." Despite herself, Brittany remembered how after Elaine, Santana hadn't brought anyone else to her place.

"And has she lied about any other thing?"

Brittany paused. "I don't know. Maybe?" But she remembered Santana's face when she told her about her family, her smile when she was talking about Brittany's photographs, the contrast, in retrospect, of her demeanor when she talked about Ryder and Mike and when she talked about the other people in the list. "No, I don't think so," she finally said.

"Look, Brittany, I'm not in any way condoning Santana's actions, but if what you've told me is correct, then I think you should at least give her a chance to explain. And judge for yourself if her explanation's good enough to warrant you to give her another chance." She paused. "Besides, I don't think you two have been able to give this relationship a real shot in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you two interacted because of the list, and not because you two simply wanted to get to know each other, right?"

"Well, there were moments…"

"But always with the list at the back of your minds." Rachel shrugged. "Just think about it, okay?"

Brittany was silent for a moment before nodding. "Okay." She paused before giving the other woman a smile. "Thanks, Rachel." She paused. "I'm sorry we duct-taped your mouth the last time. Well, not really, but I guess we could have gone about it in a better way."

Rachel just rolled her eyes, even as a smile quirked her lips. "You're welcome, Brittany."

**###**

Despite the fact that the talk with Rachel had made Brittany reconsider a lot of things, she still couldn't bring herself to talk to Santana.

So when she saw her for the first time in almost a week as she was exiting her apartment to go to her sister's wedding, she didn't know what to say or how to act.

Santana, on her part, seemed unsure as well. They stood awkwardly, barely meeting each other's eyes. But after a while, Santana took a deep breath and walked over to Brittany. She fumbled for something in the pocket of her jeans before handing Brittany a card.

Brittany looked at her, confused.

"This… this isn't me trying to ask you to forgive me or whatever," Santana mumbled, keeping her eyes on the floor. "It's just that, I was supposed to give this to you earlier but I only managed to get her contact details now." She finally raised her eyes to meet Brittany's and Brittany couldn't help but notice how sad and tired they looked. "You're really good, Britt, and I hope you give this a shot," she said, giving her a small smile.

Brittany took the card dumbly and with one last look, Santana turned around and went down the stairs.

Brittany looked at the card in her hand and saw _Shelby Corcoran, Exhibit Coordinator_ and a contact number and e-mail address listed underneath.


	8. Chapter 8

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Hailey Susan Pierce and Wesley James Brody."

Brittany could feel her eyes water as she watched her younger sister, looking resplendent in her white organza wedding dress, stand at the altar, with a look of pure happiness as she looked at her husband-to-be. It wasn't just that she was happy for Hailey, because of course she was, but at the same time, she felt this slight pinching in her heart as she thought how she may not have this for herself. But she immediately flushed that thought out of her mind, focusing on Hailey on her big day.

When they got to the part where they were exchanging vows, Brittany felt her breath catch as Wes took Hailey's hands and said, "Hailey Pierce, today I make this promise to you, that I will love and cherish you with all my heart, every single day until the day I die. I promise to never take you for granted, not your dreams or hopes or your opinions, as they are part of you and I love you and loving you means accepting every single thing about you. I promise to not hold your mistakes against you as I know you won't hold mine against me, because being bound to you in matrimony is a promise to always choose to be better, to learn from our mistakes and be the best version of ourselves for each other." He took a deep breath and his face was split into a disbelieving grin. "Did I tell you that I love you?"

Hailey laughed. "Yes, but you can tell me again."

"I love you."

"Hailey?" the preacher prompted.

"Wes Brody, today I make my vows to you, to love you and respect you 'til the end of my days. I promise to never forget to appreciate your existence, and to always be thankful that you have come into my life. I love you with every fiber of my being, and just as you promise to hold dear everything about me, I promise to cherish everything that you are and everything that you choose to be. I will stand by your side and I am eagerly anticipating the life that we will share together, a life that each day we will make better than the last." Hailey blinked back her tears. "I love you, goddammit."

Wes laughed and he took her by the waist and lifted her up. He held her close for a moment before gently settling her down again. The preacher, regaining his composure from the outburst, coughed as he asked for the rings.

The rest of the ceremony went by smoothly.

When they had finally settled down for the reception, Hailey hopped over to Brittany's side and settled on the seat beside her. Brittany smiled and said, "Congratulations, Hay."

"Thanks, Britt," Hailey said, blushing. She looked around her eagerly. "So where's your friend?"

"Kurt?"

"No, Santana! Your _not-girlfriend_ friend," she grinned. "Thought you could surprise us, didja?"

Brittany shook her head. "I don't know what you mean, Hailey. But… Santana and I, we're not—" she shrugged her shoulders.

Hailey studied her expression for a moment. "Oh." Then she asked softly, "Are you okay, Britt?"

Brittany laughed and shook her head again. She gave Hailey her brightest smile. "I'm fine, Hay. Don't worry about me. This is your big day. You should be celebrating and see if you can test the limits of the allowed PDA in an occasion as fancy as this."

Hailey gave her a look. "I know, Britt. But even if it's my wedding day, it doesn't mean I could forget how to be a sister."

Brittany stared at her for a moment before wrapping her up in a bear hug, who returned it just as warmly. "Oh Hailey, I don't know what to do." She gave her a quick run-down of what had happened, from when she found out about Mike through Kurt to the calling card that Santana gave to her earlier today.

"Have you talked with her?" Hailey asked when Brittany finished.

"How'd you know I have to talk with her?" Brittany mumbled.

"Because ninety-eight percent of relationship-related problems are about communication, or could be resolved through proper communication." She pulled back and smirked at Brittany's befuddled expression. "What? I had to do my research, you know." Then her expression softened. "I know I don't have the full details yet, Britt, but have you tried talking with her?"

Brittany hesitated before shaking her head.

Hailey just gave her a smile and she knew what she had to do.

**###**

When Brittany came back to the apartment from the reception, she immediately went to 6A and knocked on the door. It was only after a few minutes that she realized that it was a Friday and that Santana performed at the club on Fridays.

She thought of changing out of her dress but she thought that she had already wasted too much time. She ran down the stairs and hailed a cab to take her downtown.

But she had forgotten how bad the Friday evening traffic could get and she was stuck in the middle of it for half-an-hour when she thought 'fuck it', paid her fare, jumped out of the cab and ran through the streets in her dress and heels.

She had to pause and ask around for directions from strangers a couple of times, all of whom were initially surprised but also helpful when they saw the state she was in.

When she finally reached the establishment with the sign that said _Troubletones_ , she couldn't thank the heavens more.

The moment she entered the club, she stopped as she heard a voice, that warm, raspy voice that never failed to awaken something in her chest, floated in the air.

"… _you're the only one that I want…"_

Brittany stepped closer until she could see Santana wearing her black leather pants and her dark leather jacket over her white tank top. She was looking intently at the space in front of her, seeing but not seeing, as she let herself be lost in the song.

Then as she came to the refrain, she squeezed her eyes shut as she sang with such earnestness.

" _I dare you to let me be your one and only / I promise I'm worthy to hold in your arms…"_

Brittany stood transfixed at the intensity of the emotions she was pouring into the song: that combination of pain, pleading, and heartbrokenness.

"So you're the girl, huh?"

Brittany turned and saw a dark-haired woman looking at her. At her confused look, the woman just chuckled. She looked back to the stage and Brittany followed her gaze. "Girl has been singing these broken-hearted tunes all week. Don't get me wrong, she's got the pipes and, apparently the emotional pain too, for 'em but one can only take so much of such depressing songs, even if they are by my goddesses Ella, Nina, Whitney and Adele." She gave an exasperated sigh. "We've been running low on booze and tissue." She turned back to Brittany. "Seems like you're the girl who has tamed that wildfire."

Brittany felt her heart start pounding.

"I'm Mercedes Jones, proprietress of this club," holding out her hand.

Brittany took her hand and shook it. "Brittany. Brittany Pierce."

Mercedes gave her a quick smile. She flickered her eyes back to stage where Santana still sang, oblivious to Brittany's presence, or to anything else around her. Brittany felt her heart twist at such a beautiful and heartrending performance.

"Look," Mercedes finally said. "I don't make it a habit to meddle in Satan's business, and Lord knows she doesn't have a long list of virtues to her name, but I just want to say that that girl has a good heart. She is a fool many times over but she means well."

"I know," Brittany said softly. "I know."

Mercedes gave her a long, hard look. Then her features softened. "Okay then."

They turned their attention back to the stage where Santana was finishing up the song. She had now opened her eyes and as she was winding down to the last few lines, they landed on Brittany. Her eyes widened before she blinked them rapidly, as if not believing she was there. Still, the last line came out softer and more broken.

" _Come on and give me a chance / to prove that I'm the one who can / walk that mile until the end starts…"_

The place erupted into applause and a few whistles. Santana turned her attention back to her audience and gave a polite bow before exiting.

For a split-second, Brittany was afraid that Santana would leave without talking to her. But as soon as Santana got off the stage, she looked in Brittany and Mercedes' direction and paused. She shifted awkwardly for a moment before walking towards them with slow, hesitant steps.

"Wheezy," she greeted when she reached them. Mercedes just rolled her eyes. She turned to Brittany and said in a small voice. "Hi."

"Hey."

"Figures you'd show up with Adele," Santana joked, though there was a nervous edge to her voice.

Brittany smiled a little at that. "So much for living out the fantasy, huh?"

"Well, that woman really does know her stuff." Santana seemed to want to say something more but she stopped herself.

"Aren't you glad I talked you out of _Another Suitcase in Another Hall_?" Mercedes said, breaking the tension. She gave Santana a knowing smirk.

Santana laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah, Wheezy. I owe you big time."

"Well, I'd hate to be the third wheel to this awkward conversation so I'm gonna scoot my ass over to the bar. You girls just holler if you need anything."

Brittany smiled wider this time. "Thank you, Mercedes. It was nice meeting you."

"Same here." Mercedes gave her a huge smile back before turning towards Santana and pulling her by the arm until she could whisper something to her ear. Santana's expression grew somber and she nodded. Brittany didn't catch what she said, only the last part, "…do right or I'm gonna slap you upside your thick skull."

When Mercedes left, Brittany and Santana just stood awkwardly, trying and failing to meet each other's eyes.

Finally, Santana mustered her courage and said, "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I should've told you, I shouldn't have lied to you. I'm sorry."

Brittany reached out to touch her hand. "Why did you?"

Santana flicked her eyes to Brittany's face before lowering them again. "I was scared," she said simply. "This guy, Mike Chang, seems to be perfect for you, and I… I didn't know if I could compete with that." She paused. "I know what I did was wrong, and I never intended to lie to you. I was going to tell you that night at the couch but I panicked and told you about Ryder instead." She swallowed. "I just wanted to buy myself time, for you to get to know me and maybe come to like me."

"Santana…"

She shook her head. "I know. I'm sorry. It was stupid and selfish and I really shouldn't have done that."

"Santana." Brittany laced her fingers with hers. "Look at me." Santana met her eyes timidly. "I'm mad at you for lying to me and keeping stuff from me, and I really wish you didn't do those things." Santana's face fell and she tried to tug her hand away but Brittany kept a firm hold on them. "No, listen to me please. I'm mad but I'd be a fool to keep on holding those things against you. Not when you've done so much for me, not when being with you makes me happy, not when…" she paused to take a deep breath, "you're the only one who makes me feel that anything is possible."

Santana's eyes widened. "B-But what about Mike?"

Brittany shrugged. "I went out with him and I just, I didn't feel anything." She smiled. "I choose you, Santana."

"Really?"

Brittany laughed before leaning over to Santana until their lips were only a hair's breadth away. "Yeah. I choose you, just as you've chosen me." The gasp that Santana let out was lost as Brittany closed the distance between them.

**###**

"So, just out of curiosity, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you were falling for me," Brittany said, waggling her brows.

Santana blushed and she nudged her where they were sitting on the couch. She tried to hide from Brittany's questioning gaze but eventually gave up. She snuggled closer to her before giving a little sigh. "I don't know… I guess I was just afraid that I'd lose you. We've gotten so close so fast and you were like my best friend, Britt. I was comfortable with you and I could tell you stuff and I don't have anyone like that in my life, not even 'Cedes. I tell her things but only certain things. With you, it felt like I could tell you anything."

Brittany hummed as she kissed the top of Santana's head. "Funny thing, I felt that exact same way about you."

"Really?"

"Really really."

Santana raised her head, smiling. Brittany leaned over to kiss her. When they pulled apart, she said, "Too bad 'Cedes kicked us out of the club for canoodling; I would've loved to sing you a couple more songs."

"Well, you can sing to me here."

Santana shook her head. "Not the same." At Brittany's questioning look, she continued, "Well, for one, there's no band, and two, nobody else is gonna see how I'm singing to the most beautiful woman in the world."

Brittany clicked her tongue, even as she blushed. "No need to smooth-talk me, lady-lover."

Santana winked. "You know you want it."

Brittany groaned. "How can you be so cute and adorable one second and seductive and smirky the next?"

"Like you're one to talk," she shot back. "You want me to stop?"

Brittany raised a brow. "Who said anything about wanting to stop?"

Santana laughed as she leaned in to kiss Brittany. "Touché," she mumbled against her lips. Brittany livened up to the kiss and began working her mouth against Santana's, teasing and licking.

**###**

"I think you should just come and live with me," Brittany said as she dried her hair with a towel. Here entire body was still buzzing with the shared shower session they just had. "Saves the rent; besides you haven't fully unpacked your things yet."

Santana, who was sprawled on the bed, exhausted, cracked an eye open. She tried to smirk but all she managed was a goofy grin. Brittany felt her face heat up with a mixture of pride and affection. "But we haven't gone out on a date yet."

Brittany just quirked her eyebrow at that. "You still saying that?"

"I'm an old-fashioned gal," said Santana, shrugging.

"Well, in that case, I think I should tell you that I consider shared shower sessions as bath dates, watching movies on Saturday nights, or any other nights for that matter, as movie dates, and you making me dinner as a home date." Brittany laid aside her towel before crawling over beside Santana, who immediately curled up into her.

"Is that right?" Santana hummed.

"Yup; my logic's impenetrable."

"Impeccable?"

"What's the connection between logic and hen-pecking?"

Santana laughed. "None that I know of." She wrapped her arm around Brittany, pulling her closer. "I really want to take you out on a fancy dinner, though."

"To show me off?"

"Of course."

"That depends; will there be shrimp cocktail?"

"As many as you like."

Brittany pretended to think it over for a moment. "Well then, okay."

Santana grinned. "Score."

**###**

"Santana."

"Hm?"

"Santana!"

Santana jumped from her seat. "Uh, yes, Britt?"

Brittany laughed. "Will you relax? You've been fidgeting for the past ten minutes."

"I was?" Santana asked. She grabbed her glass of water but her hand was shaking so much, she sloshed the contents a bit, spilling some on the tablecloth. "Oh crap!" She grabbed the napkin and started dabbing on the wet spots.

Brittany reached out to still Santana's hand. "Santana."

Santana stopped. She looked at Brittany sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. What's wrong? Why are you so nervous?"

Santana eyes darted to Brittany then to the table then to the glass then back to Brittany. "I—It's just that I haven't done this in a while."

"Eat dinner?"

Santana, missing the joke, withdrew her hand from Brittany's. She started worrying the napkin with her hands. "Go out on a fancy date," she mumbled.

"You're the one who insisted on this," Brittany reminded her.

"I know," Santana groaned. "I wanted to give you a great fancy date but I've forgotten how these things go."

Brittany narrowed her eyes. "When was your last date?"

"Uh…" Santana frowned as she thought this over. "Over a decade ago?"

"Wow."

"Yeah. I'm such a spaz."

Brittany pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "No, you're not." She took Santana's hand again. "Just relax, I'll walk you through this," she winked.

Santana blushed but eventually relaxed. "Okay."

"We just eat and talk about stuff, like we've been doing the past few weeks."

Santana looked at her with unsure eyes. "There's no fancy dinner talk?"

Brittany laughed. "No. Dates are for us to get to know each other, with the added bonus of letting other people gawk at how perfect we are for each other."

"Really?"

"Really really."

"Okay." She looked at the table for a moment, frowning, before she looked at Brittany again. She gave a small nervous smile. "So, have you talked to Shelby yet?"

Brittany smiled back and squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Yes, I have. I've already sent her my portfolio and she's going to notify me within the week when we can set up the exhibit."

Santana's eyes widened and she beamed. "That's terrific news, Britt!"

Brittany blushed. "I know. It's all thanks to you."

"Baloney!" Santana snorted, her nerves vanishing. "It's your talent and skill that got you this. It's all you, Britt."

Brittany stared at her for a while., then she squeezed Santana's hand again. "It's all us."

Santana's eyes sparkled and she ducked her head shyly. "Us," she repeated.

"You and I. Us."

Santana gave a small tinkling laugh. "I like that word."

"Good, 'cause it's gonna be us now from this moment on."

Santana looked up through her lashes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So, how about you? What do you do on the days when you don't go to the club?"

"I help out my brother if he has some tough cases that require digging up info." Then she added a bit self-consciously. "I also help teach the kids at the local dance studio."

Brittany's eyes lit up. "You dance? Why didn't you tell me that before?"

Santana shrugged her shoulders, still bashful. "Yeah well, I saw some videos of you dancing before and I'm not exactly as good at it as you are."

"Baloney!" Brittany scrunched up her nose. "There's no comparison, Santana." She offered her a smile. "We shouldn't ever compare ourselves to each other; I heard it kills relationships."

"It does?"

"Yeah. Hailey's been giving me unsolicited relationship advice, 'cause apparently, when you're married, you automatically become a relationship guru," said Brittany, rolling her eyes.

Santana laughed. "Well, she's happy so there must be truth in what she says."

Brittany shrugged before giving a grudging smile. "Yeah, I think so, too." She leaned in a little. "So now that I know that you also dance, what do you say we hit a dance club after?" When she saw hesitation in Santana's features, she added in a low voice, "You know, dancing works me up and gets me all hot…" she slowly raked her eyes over Santana's face, her neck and her chest, "and bothered."

Santana swallowed. "No fair."

Brittany smirked. "Is that a yes?"

Santana flushed crimson. "Like I could ever say no to you."

"Don't worry; I won't abuse my power… too often." Santana let out a groan, which made Brittany laugh. "You know, seeing you like this, I wouldn't have thought you were a lady-killer."

"You took my game away," Santana groused.

Brittany thought of teasing her a bit more but Santana looked so put out that she changed her mind. She said softly, "Baby, you don't need game; you already got me."

"I do?" Santana asked in a small voice, her eyes shining.

Brittany felt her heart clench. "You do. I'm yours."

"You're mine." A slow smile spread on Santana's face. "And I'm yours, too."

"Just the way it should be."

**###**

While on their way back from their grocery-shopping, Brittany and Santana passed by the Center, where upon insistent public demand, Madame Tibideaux extended her stay for another two weeks.

Santana was talking about the new set list she was preparing for her performance next week when Brittany caught sight of a woman wearing a purple turban exiting the Center, surrounded by a gaggle of people. Brittany immediately stopped in her tracks and grabbed hold of Santana's arm.

"Britt?" Santana asked, confused.

"I want you to meet somebody."

"There's somebody else whose blessing I've yet to receive?"

Brittany just smiled and tugged her towards the crowd. Madame Tibideaux, who was about to enter a black limousine waiting by the curb, saw them. She paused and waited for them to come to her. Brittany and Santana made their way to her (with Santana's mean glare cutting through the crowd thus facilitating their passage). Madame Tibideaux nodded to her bodyguards to let them through.

"Hey, Madame T," greeted Brittany with a big grin on her face.

"The woman with the cat," Madame Tibideaux said, looking at her through her glasses. She directed her attention to Santana. "And this is…?"

"My soulmate, Santana Lopez," proclaimed Brittany proudly.

"Britt?" Santana asked in a whisper.

Brittany turned to Santana. "This was the woman who led me to you."

"Oh." Santana looked at Madame Tibideaux for a moment before smiling. "Well then, thank you for leading her to me."

Madame Tibideaux looked at the pair of them carefully. It was only for a split-second but Brittany thought she saw the woman smile. "You're welcome." She flickered her gaze back to Brittany. "And your cat?"

"Mr. Puss turned up in our window the other night," Brittany rocked herself with the balls of her feet. Her eyes were bright with happiness and excitement. "Seems like that since Hunter's in prison, he's finally free to come back to Lord Tubbington."

"I see."

"Thank you so much for everything."

Madame Tibideaux just shook her head. "Not everything. I wish you two and your cats the best," she said before entering the limo.

"Wow, is she like a movie star or something?" Santana asked once the limo left. "She kind of reminds me of Sister Mary Clarence from _Sister Act._ "

Brittany laughed. "I thought so, too. Come on, you still have to cook dinner for me."

Santana let herself be led away from the Center. But after a few minutes, she asked, "Britt? Who was that really?"

Brittany just turned to her, the big smile still on her face. "Just somebody who believed in us before we did."


End file.
